


After School Special

by listerinezero



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Phone Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, implied domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 49,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/listerinezero/pseuds/listerinezero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles was barely seventeen and Erik was his social studies teacher. But after almost fifteen years together, does it really matter how they met?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. AU: teacher/student

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of small fics all in the same 'verse, each ficlet hitting a square in [ XMFC: Bingo](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d179563728484e5deb2e0bbfcffefe29/tumblr_mjfczp4yRb1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg).

“Goddammit. Goddammit goddammit goddammit. Come on!” Erik turned the key in the ignition again, and again nothing. The snow was beginning to fall faster now, and he’d already seen two cars slide on their way out of the high school’s parking lot. He decided to count to ten and then try it one more time, and if the car still didn’t start, he was going to give up.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Emma Frost was watching him from the window with open curiosity, sipping at what was probably a mug of organic white tea, brewed whole-leaf: the kind she kept under lock and key in the teachers’ lounge, as if any of the rest of the faculty cared enough to steal it. Erik sure didn’t. She smiled and waved. Erik tried not to sneer at her.

Nine. Ten.

Erik turned the key in the ignition one more time, and again the car sat silent. Dead. Surely he’d be able to get it fixed – he’d had this car for ten years and it had over three hundred thousand miles on it; it was not going to be felled by a little bit of cold weather – but not that night, not with the weather report looking the way it was. At the moment all he wanted to do was go home, so he took the keys out of the ignition, gathered his things, and went back into the school.

Emma was waiting at the door. “Car trouble?” She didn’t sound concerned. She sounded amused.

“Yes. Can you give me a ride home?”

“’Fraid not. I knew it was going to be bad, so I asked Scott to come pick me up in the Escalade. He’s late, of course, but he’s on his way. Or so he tells me.”

“Great,” Erik sighed. “Is anyone else around?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t think so. Azazel and Janos left as soon as the last bell rang. Rachel’s gone. Alison’s gone. I think it’s just you and me.”

“Great,” Erik muttered again, and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“My husband, to see if he can come pick me up. Otherwise I’ll have to call for a tow.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really! Am I actually going to meet the mysterious Charles?”

Erik only glared at her, then stepped away as he waited for Charles to pick up the phone, which he did on the third ring.

“Hello?” 

“Hey. Can you come pick me up? My car won’t start.”

“Where are you?” 

“I’m still at school. I was working on my lesson plans and I didn’t realize it was so bad outside.”

Charles paused. "You’re really going to let me come pick you up at school?”

“I don’t see what other choice I have,” Erik said, glancing over at Emma, who was making no effort to hide her eavesdropping.

“No, that’s fine. I’m just surprised. Ahhh… I have to pick Marie up from volleyball practice in a few minutes. Is it all right if I get her first and then you?” 

“Yeah, no problem. I can wait.”

“All right. I should be there in about half an hour.” 

“Thanks. See you soon.”

Emma was grinning – or as close to grinning as Erik’s seen her – when he hung up the phone. “He’s coming?” she asked.

“He’s picking my daughter up first and then he’s coming here.”

“Well then.” Emma sipped at her tea. “Looks like my luck might be turning after all.”

They retreated to the teachers’ lounge to wait for their rides. What he should have done, Erik thought, was go back to his classroom and continue working, but he and Emma were nominally friends, and it felt rude not to sit with her. At least the lounge had a full view of the parking lot and a well-stocked pantry. It would have almost been pleasant spending that time with her if only she would have stopped asking about Charles.

“Is he weird looking?”

“What? No!”

“Is he an undertaker? Grave digger?”

“No and no.”

“Was he in prison?”

“No, he was not in prison! Why do you keep asking me these things?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what the big secret is,” she said. “You’ve been married to this guy for how long now? Ten years?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years! I’ve been working with you for eleven, and I know absolutely nothing about him. I don’t even know his last name. There must be some reason why you’re so secretive about him.”

“I just don’t see why I need to share every detail of my personal life with the entire staff!”

“No one’s asking for every little detail!” Emma threw her hands in the air. “No one would even care at all if you didn’t make such a big deal of not telling anybody anything!”

Erik crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Well he’s perfectly normal. So don’t go starting rumors about me being married to some disfigured grave digging inmate.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ten minutes later, a giant white Escalade barreled into the parking lot and pulled right up to the front door, blizzard be damned. Erik smiled. “That must be Scott. I guess you won’t get to meet my hubby Quasimodo after all.”

Emma said nothing, but the smirk on her face as she swanned out of the teachers’ lounge made Erik nervous.

She returned two minutes later with a man in tow who Erik presumed had to be Scott. He was wearing Timberland boots, an Eddie Bauer coat, a JCrew hat, and a pair of Oakley sunglasses.

“You must be Scott.” Erik shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he mumbled. “Emma says she wants to wait for some reason, so I guess we’re gonna hang here for a few minutes.”

That explained the smug look on Emma’s face.

“Ah. Well, I made a pot of coffee if you want any. And you can take those off,” Erik said, nodding towards the Oakleys. “You’re indoors now. And it’s cloudy outside.”

Scott pulled out his cell phone and ignored Erik.

When Scott had walked back to the corner of the room to make a phone call (or pretend to make a phone call), Erik shot Emma a look. “You’re seriously going to stay out in a blizzard just so you can gawk at Charles?”

“You’re damn right I am. And he’d better be seriously deformed or I will be very disappointed.”

“You’re going to be very disappointed, then.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s like seeing the Loch Ness Monster. Even if it’s a blurry shadow, at least you’ve seen it.” Her eyes drifted towards the window. “Is that him?”

Erik turned. Yes, it was Charles’ car: a current model Volvo XC70 in metallic blue (unlike Erik, Charles insisted on a new car every 60,000 miles). And there was Charles in the driver’s seat, and there were the two kids in the back. Erik’s heart started to pound. “Yes, that’s him.”

“So far, so normal. And don’t think I’m going to let you jump in the car without letting me meet him. He’s coming in here.”

Erik took a deep breath. It’s only Emma. Charles can meet Emma.  It will be good. It will be fine.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Charles’ number again.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Erik said when Charles answered. “Emma’s still here. You should come in and meet her.”

Even from the window of the teachers’ lounge, Erik could see the surprise on Charles face. “Really? All right. Sure. Um, is the front door locked?”

“I’ll come open it for you.”

Emma was on top of Erik like white on rice, following him down the hallway to the front door of the school so closely that she accidentally stepped on the backs of his heels three times.

When they finally got to the door, bruised heels and all, Charles was there waiting under the overhang and out of the snow with Marie and Kurt, peeking in the windows. He lit up when he saw Erik.

“He’s cute!” Emma said in surprise as Erik let Charles and the kids into the building.

Charles laughed as he brushed the snow out of his hair. “Thank you! That’s kind of you to say, considering I feel like a Yeti right about now.” He reached out his hand. “Charles Xavier. Nice to meet you.”

Emma shook his hand. “Emma Frost. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you!”

Charles shrugged that off without an answer and instead turned to the kids. “This is our daughter, Marie, and our son, Kurt.” At twelve and nine, respectively, they were old enough to not be prompted to say hello, but also old enough to just mumble it awkwardly, making it abundantly clear to their parents that they wanted to be anywhere but standing in the high school lobby being introduced to their father’s coworker.

“Now you guys I’ve heard lots about,” said Emma. “Erik talks about you all the time. He’s very proud of the both of you.” Kurt and Marie did not appear impressed to hear this, despite Erik’s beaming at them, so Emma turned her attention back to Charles. “So what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a biologist. I work for a biotech company based in White Plains. I’ve also been working on my PhD for the past, oh,” he looked to Erik, “five years? Six? At this point I’m just hoping I finish my PhD before Marie does!” he laughed.

“Biotech? That must be interesting.”

“It’s mostly not, unfortunately.”

Erik could feel Emma watching him watch Charles, but he was too amused and terrified by the whole exchange to pay her any attention.

“And have you ever been in prison?” Emma then asked Charles, who laughed. So did Kurt.

“No, I can’t say I have. Why do you ask?”

She eyed Erik. “No reason.”

Erik clapped his hands together. “All right. Enough chitchat. Let’s get out of here before we get snowed in.”

“Is that Charles Xavier?” a voice boomed from down the hall.

Erik immediately broke out in a cold sweat. His heartbeat was thumping up his esophagus into his throat and his ears began to ring.

Charles peeked down the hallway and Erik would have sworn he saw Charles’ heart skip a beat, but no one but him would have ever known that Charles was nervous. “Principal Howlett?” Charles called down the hall.

It was: Principal Howlett. He was still there, apparently, though Erik had no idea how he and Emma could have both missed that little detail. But there he was, marching down the hallway in his snowboots towards Charles, a cigar hanging out of his mouth. “Charles Xavier, now this is a surprise.” He shook Charles’ hand. “You’ve grown up a bit, I see.”

“And you look exactly the same, sir. How is that possible?”

“What can I say? I’m effectively ageless. It helps that I’ve looked like I was 45 since I was 15.” Principal Howlett took in the rest of the crowd that gathered in the lobby. “What brings you here at this hour?” he asked Charles.

“I’m just here to pick up Erik.”

Principal Howlett turned to Erik. “Oh, really.” Erik gulped. “Friend of yours?”

“Husband,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Charles is my husband. And these are my kids, Kurt and Marie.”

Principal Howlett nodded hello to them, then eyed Erik. “Oh, really,” he said again, then turned back to Charles. “Well, it’s good to see you again, Charles. You always were one of my favorite students. Never could figure out why I was always bumping into you in the hallways after school hours, though.” He looked over to Erik again. “Or why our top biology student was always hanging around the social studies department.”

Erik felt himself turn bright red.

“What about you, Frost?” asked Principal Howlett. “What are you still doing here?”

Emma was grinning now – truly grinning, not just her version of it. “Just here for the show, sir.”

“I’ll bet.” Principal Howlett put the cigar back into his mouth. “Well, have a good evening. Nice seeing you again, Xavier. Lehnsherr? Frost? We’ll talk on Monday.” And with that, Howlett left the building.

Emma couldn’t wait ten seconds before bursting, “Charles was your student? Here? Charles was your student here? That’s the big secret?”

Erik gathered up the kids and ushered them towards the door. “And that is why I don’t talk about Charles at work, understand?”

Emma nodded. “Oh, I understand. Completely.”

“Don’t you dare breathe a word of this. To anybody.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Emma smiled, then turned back to Charles. “Well, it was lovely meeting you. This was definitely worth staying late for.”

“I’m sure it was,” Charles muttered nervously.

“Don’t worry about Howlett,” said Emma. “His bark is worse than his bite. And I’m guessing you’re not planning to press charges anyway.”

That made Charles laugh. “No, I can’t say I was.” Emma’s eyes went wide. “And I guess I just confirmed your suspicions. Well. This can’t get much worse.” He turned to Erik. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“Yes, let’s get out of here.” Erik zipped up his coat. “Goodbye, Emma. Thank you for bringing my worst nightmares to life. Get home safe. Don’t forget you left your Ken doll in the teachers’ lounge.”

“Oh, I’m sure Scott will find the door eventually.”

Erik turned to Charles. “You have the keys?”

“Yep, let’s go. Nice meeting you, Emma. Drive safe.”

“Bye.”


	2. Gay For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/30f8b2fb2f5e4c2affff691be3f83578/tumblr_mjkyduOmOz1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

So this was Mr. Lehnsherr’s apartment.

 _Erik’s. Erik’s apartment,_ Charles corrected himself. He really needed to stop thinking of him as Mr. Lehnsherr. Charles wasn’t his student anymore, and he hadn’t been for more than three years. And anyway, they’d actually gone on a proper date the night before: dinner, a movie, drinks at a bar (Charles was carded, which was embarrassing, but he was legal now, which was not). This was a date with his ex, whom he hadn’t seen in three years, not an illicit tryst with his AP Government teacher.

In all the months of illicit trysting, Charles had never been to Erik’s apartment. They’d spent most of their time together at school, at least in the beginning. Then, as the trysting progressed, Erik had refused to allow Charles to visit his apartment. Instead Erik would spend the night at Charles’. Charles had his own private entrance at the Xavier estate, with his own private suite, and his mother and step-father were rarely around. The maids didn’t know or care who Erik was, and the long driveway with the gated entrance offered a kind of privacy that Erik’s crowded apartment building could not.

So this was the first time Charles got to see Erik’s apartment. “I live alone and I’m at school twelve hours a day. I’m not going to blow all my money on rent,” was what Mr. Lehnsherr – Erik – said when they walked in. But this was a man who had driven his mom’s old Buick until it literally cracked in half; Charles was expecting something similar in his choice of apartment. Now that he was finally seeing it, it was both nicer than Charles was expecting and kind of a dump. The neighborhood was kind of shitty and all of his furniture looked like he’d dragged it up from the curb, but it was large and neat and clean, with enormous, well-placed windows that allowed the sun to flood the bedroom with early morning light. Erik had golden streaks in his hair. Charles had never noticed them before.

Charles tucked a curl behind Erik’s ear. “Your hair got long,” he said.

Erik didn’t lift his head from the pillow. Charles was glad for it; their noses were almost touching and, despite the morning breath, Charles didn’t want him any farther away than that. Erik only ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the sunlit auburn waves, and smiled. “My mom says it makes me look younger.” Erik shifted a little closer. “You cut yours.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it.”

“I don’t. I got it cut last week and it’s shorter than I asked for.”

Erik’s face was so close now that Charles could no longer see it. “Well, I like it like this,” he said. His lips brushed against Charles’ as he spoke.

They kissed, only briefly, then Erik pulled away, a thoughtful look on his face. “Have you been seeing anyone?” he asked, almost shy. His eyelashes were longer than Charles remembered.

Charles shrugged, trailing his fingernail along Erik’s naked hip. “Have you?”

Erik said nothing. Charles assumed it meant one of two things: either he was seeing someone and didn’t want so say, or he hadn’t dated anyone these past three years and didn’t want Charles to think he was a weirdo loner. Knowing Erik, Charles gave the latter a 75% chance.

Finally Erik said, “You’re young. You should date. You should, y’know…” He made a useless gesture, the meaning of which flew right past Charles.

“I had a girlfriend – a girl who lived down the hall from me. Gaby. We went out for about a year, but we broke up at the beginning of last semester. There are girls at parties. A girl in my o-chem class I went out with a few times. That’s about it.”

“Girls?” Erik asked, trying to be coy but landing closer to nosy. “No guys?”

Charles shrugged again. “No. I guess not.”

Erik ran his fingers along the trail of hair that now led downwards from Charles’ bellybutton. “There aren’t any guys you’re interested in?”

“You’re the only guy I’m interested in,” Charles said quietly. “You’re the only one I want.”

Erik froze, haloed by a streak of sunlight through the blinds, then kissed Charles’ throat, his Adam’s apple, his collar bone. “I feel like I should be telling you to go out with people your own age,” Erik said, “but I don’t want to share you.”

Charles smoothed the waves that Erik had just ruffled. “I don’t want you to.”


	3. Moira/Sean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/9fd82abccf14c828dc6220e1aad4030d/tumblr_mjxu0iIVnj1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Moira spotted the stack of graded exams on Mr. Lehnsherr’s desk before she walked in the door. Fucking finally. The midterm had been two whole weeks ago - ten school days - and it was worth 35% of her grade for the quarter. If she got at least a 97% on the test, and if Charles got no higher than a 95%, then she will have pulled ahead of him in the race for valedictorian. It was still only December, but Moira had just lost the number one GPA to him in the last marking period. The sooner she could win it back, the better.

Lehnsherr must have caught the panicked look on her face, because she could feel his eyes following her as she stepped into the classroom and took her seat.

She decided to play it casual. "Hi, Mr. Lehnsherr."

"Hello, Moira."

Charles walked in behind her, also acting overly casual. Suspiciously casual. He must have been as nervous about losing the number one GPA as she was. "Hi, Mr. Lehnsherr," he said.

"Hello, Charles."

Charles took the seat behind her, as usual. She wondered briefly if he ever peeked at her work, but decided she was just being paranoid. If he was going to cheat off of her, he would sit next to her, not behind her.

"I know I've taken longer than usual to grade these," said Mr. Lehnsherr, when all the students had finally settled down, "so I won't make you wait until the end of class to get your tests back." He began to walk up and down the classroom aisles, depositing the exams face down on each student's desk. "Overall, you did very well." He was waking towards her now; Moira could feel him coming up the aisle behind her. "There were 13 As, including two perfect scores." Her heart sank - if she and Charles both got 100%, then his GPA was still higher than hers. "However," Mr Lehnsherr continued, "there were a handful of mistakes that I saw repeatedly, and we are going to go over those points one more time."

He placed the exam in front of her, face down. Moira took a deep breath and flipped it over.

_97% Good Job!_

Son of a bitch.

What did she get wrong? Who got the perfect scores? What did Charles get? What did she get wrong?

Frantically Moira flipped through the seven page exam searching for red marks, which she finally found buried in her answer to the essay question: she'd been running out of time and in scrambling to finish, she'd confused the 15th and 16th Amendments. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid, careless mistake.

But she'd still gotten the 97 she'd been aiming for. The question now was: what had Charles gotten?

"Hey, Charles," she said, turning in her seat. "How'd you do?"

"Fine."

"What did you get?"

"I got an A."

"Me, too. What was your grade?"

Charles was beginning to look suspicious. "Why?"

“I'm just curious. Come on. What did you get?" Moira peeked at the paper, but it was face down.

"I told you, I got an A."

"Yes, but what kind of A? Was it an A+? A-? Let me see."

"Eyes front, please, Miss Kinross!" said Mr. Lehnsherr.

Moira sighed and turned around, ignoring the smug look on Charles' face.

Moira tried twice more during the course of the period to find out what Charles got on the exam, but it wasn't until after the bell rang that she finally saw the grade peeking out of his backpack as he gathered his things for the next class:

_100% Well done!_

Son of a bitch.

 

*

 

"Who cares?" Sean asked after school. They were walking from Moira's locker down to the back door of the school, where Sean’s car was parked. He had his hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. "It's only one test."

"One test could be enough! Do you know how close our GPAs are? The difference between my GPA and his GPA is only point – "

Sean pressed her against the lockers. "Please don't tell me the decimals again."

She dropped her bags to floor and pulled his hips a little closer. "Wouldn't you be proud of me if I was valedictorian?"

"Of course I would," he murmured, nibbling at her neck, "but you're obsessed."

"I'm not obsessed."

Sean lifted his head to give her a sarcastic look. "You have his GPA memorized to one thousandth of a point. What's my GPA?"

Moira thought about that for a minute. "Well, you had all Bs on your last report card, right?"

Sean rolled his eyes and resumed kissing her neck.

“Wait, stop," said Moira, and pushed him away.

"What?"

"I heard something."

They both stopped to listen. After a few moments of silence, a laugh rang through the hallway.

"Who is that?" Sean asked.

"I don't know. I don't recognize the laugh."

They heard it again, louder this time.

Sean chuckled. "Something's funny, I guess."

"Let's go see who it is," said Moira, and pushed Sean away.

“Aw, come on," Sean whined as she stepped softly down the hallway away from him.  "Who cares?"

"Shhh! I do!"

"You're so nosy." Sean smirked and rolled his eyes, but took her hand and walked with her back down the Humanities hallway, all the way to the end. They didn’t find anyone.

"That's so weird," said Moira. "I swear I heard someone."

"I did, too. They must have left."

Sean was still holding her hand. He really was sweet, she thought, and she tugged him towards her with a flirtatious smile. "You're indulging me.”

"Maybe," he smirked, and nuzzled his nose against hers. “You’re lucky you have such an indulgent boyfriend - one who doesn’t get jealous because you have other boys’ GPAs memorized.”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured into his mouth. “I’m very lucky.”

And just as she kissed him, she heard the laugh again. This time there was someone else laughing, too.

“Shhh!” She put a finger to his mouth. “They’re in 206.”

Hand in hand, they tiptoed across the hall and peeked around the corner into 206.

“Oh my god!” Moira burst. “Charles!”

“Moira!”

“Mr. Lehnsherr!”

“Cassidy!”

Charles jumped off Mr. Lehnsherr’s desk and grabbed his shirt from the floor. “Oh my god, Moira!” he said as he slipped it over his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Me?” she screeched. “What the hell are you doing? Oh my god! Mr. Lehnsherr!”

Mr. Lehnsherr turned his back to them as he zipped his fly. “This is not what it looks like!” he called over his shoulder.

Sean started to laugh.

“The hell it is!” said Moira.

“No, no! It’s okay!” Mr. Lehnsherr said frantically. “You don’t need to tell anyone, all right?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“We’re not breaking any laws.” Mr. Lehnsherr looked pretty panicked for someone who wasn’t breaking any laws.

“Is that what Howlett would say?”

“Moira, come on!” said Charles. “We’ve been friends since second grade. Don’t do this to me.”

“Oh, please, give me a break! No wonder you got a 100 on that exam!”

“What? No! I got that grade fair and square! That exam was easy!”

“Hey!” Mr. Lehnsherr glared at Charles. “My exams are not easy!”

“Let me talk to you in private for a minute,” Charles said, taking Moira by the arm and leading her into the hallway. He led her around the corner and into the stairwell, leaving Sean and Mr. Lehnsherr on their own.

“Well?” said Moira when they were alone. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Please don’t tell anyone about me and Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“We’re not hurting anyone! What difference does it make to you?”

“It affects me! It affects the whole school! How do we know Lehnsherr’s not a predator? How do we know he’s not some sort of” –she scrambled for the word– “SEX OFFENDER?” Her voice echoed through the stairwell: _sex offender sex offender sex offender…_

“Would you keep your voice down? He’s not a sex offender!” Charles crossed his arms over his chest and, after a moment’s thought, released a defeated sigh. “Look, I’ll make you a deal.”

Moira crossed her arms, too. “I’m listening.”

“If you don’t say anything, and you make sure Sean doesn’t say anything, I’ll let you be valedictorian.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘let’ me be valedictorian?”

“I’ve already accepted a spot to college and I’ve already confirmed that I’ve gotten a scholarship. It’s not going to make a difference if I don’t get valedictorian.” He shrugged. “Maybe I feel a little senioritis coming on.”

“How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

“We have our test on _The Great Gatsby_ tomorrow. I promise I won’t get higher than a B. Will that prove I’m not bluffing?”

Moira thought that over. “Is it really worth that much to you that you’d throw the rest of the year?”

“I’m not going to throw it, I’m just going to make sure you do better than me,” said Charles. “And yes, it’s worth it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Moira stuck out her hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said as they shook on it.

Charles just rolled his eyes and left the stairwell to return to Mr. Lehnsherr’s classroom.

Sean found her a minute later. “Well, that was surprising,” he said.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

They walked back down the hallway towards Sean’s car holding hands.

“I can’t believe Charles is sleeping with Mr. Lehnsherr,” said Sean. “I mean, if I was gay and I was going to sleep with a teacher, I would sleep with Mr. Odinson.”

“Really?”

“Totally.”

Moira laughed. “Me, too.”


	4. AU: shark/mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/cbd83ae37bf3e8ae15f7ee5d98fc62d3/tumblr_mk4ixhAF721s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Charles thought he was pretty well organized. At some point, one day when he was feeling responsible and grown up, he’d gone to Staples and purchased a portable filing cabinet – basically a glorified box – and a healthy supply of tabbed folders in assorted colors in which he was going to keep all of his paperwork. The only trouble was that he didn’t actually feel like sorting through all of the papers he’d collected over the years, so it all ended up being shoved into the folders somewhat haphazardly, vaguely sorted into “tax stuff,” “insurance stuff,” “school stuff,” “bank papers,” and a large section just marked “other.”

It did the job. It didn’t have to be perfect, he thought. He was the only one looking through it. He carried it with him from home to dorm to home to apartment to apartment to apartment, shoving in his leases and credit card statements and anything else he thought he shouldn’t throw in the trash. He had mixed results on those rare occasions that he actually needed to find something in the box, but otherwise, Charles thought his filing system was perfectly adequate.

He never thought twice about the box until a couple of months after he and Erik were married, when they were moving into their first house. With Marie and Kurt (and all of the toys and diapers and other stuff that came with having children in the house) now in the mix, Erik wanted to throw out what seemed like everything they owned and start anew. Not _everything_ , he insisted – their toothbrushes, for example, they should keep. Their clothes. Their marriage certificate. Things like that. Important things. Not just whatever junk they’d accumulated over the years.

“Like this stuff,” he said, leafing through Charles’ box with one hand while balancing Kurt on his hip with the other. “What is all this? Why is it here?”

“It’s important!” said Charles.

“Why?”

Charles pointed to the words “IMPORTANT PAPERS,” written in big black letters on the side.

Kurt apparently thought that was pretty funny. He let out a big laugh and started babbling and pointing. Kurt always seemed to be inserting himself into their conversations, despite only having a few words under his belt. Most of what he said was nonsense, but he said that nonsense with conviction. He was a very opinionated baby.

“Kurt agrees with me,” said Erik, shifting him to his other hip. “Look at this.” He began pulling things out at random. “Receipts. Instructions for the printer we threw out six months ago. A job application for Barnes and Noble… and the only part you filled in was your name.”

“There are important things in there,” Charles insisted. “My birth certificate is in there somewhere.”

“Not that you’d be able to find it if you needed it.” Erik pulled out another file folder and opened it on the table, and Charles felt vindicated when it turned out to be the paperwork from his car insurance.

“See? I told you this stuff is important.”

Erik continued sorting through the box. “What is this?” he asked, flipping through the pages of a worn spiral notebook. His eyes went wide. “Oh my god, Charles, is this your high school math notebook?”

“Let me see that.” Charles grabbed it out of his hand. Sure enough: “ _Find all points on the graph of y = x  3 - 3x where the tangent line is parallel to the x axis_,” he read aloud.

“Why the hell would you keep your high school math notebook?” Erik was teetering on the cusp between annoyed and amused, and he set Kurt down on the ground so he could tackle the box with both hands. Kurt wobbled off towards the living room and plopped down on the floor beside Marie to watch Sesame Street.

“Why would you keep any of this stuff?” Erik asked as he unearthed more of Charles’ high school work: five folders filled with exams and essays and four more notebooks.

“Hey, some of this is from your class,” said Charles. “Don’t you want your students to hang onto their classwork?”

“No! I want them to vote and be informed citizens and stand up against injustice, not carry around a stack of college-ruled spiral notebooks for the rest of their lives!” He held one up to Charles. “And why did you draw a bunny and a fish on all of these?”

“That’s a shark and a mouse!”

Erik looked again. “That’s supposed to be a shark and a mouse?”

“Yes!” said Charles. “Look at the teeth – that’s a shark! And that’s clearly a mouse!” He never was much of an artist, but he thought his drawings were at least recognizable. If Erik could recognize Marie’s purple and red crayon scribbles as a portrait of him, he should at least be able to tell the difference between a rabbit and a mouse.

Erik examined the doodle for another minute before putting the notebook down, looking unconvinced. “Okay, then why did you draw a shark and a mouse on all of these?”

Charles felt his cheeks begin to warm. “It was supposed to be you and me. I’m the mouse and you’re the shark.”

“What? Really?” Erik picked up the notebook to look again.

“Well, I wasn’t about to go scribbling ‘I Love Mr. Lehnsherr’ in the margins!” Charles said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Give me some credit!”

Charles watched Erik’s face soften as he looked through the notebooks again, this time stopping on all the pages with Charles’ terrible drawings. The ones with the little hearts were particularly embarrassing, but they left a smile on Erik’s face.

Erik kissed him on the cheek. “I guess you can keep the notebooks.”      


	5. Sex Dungeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/af6146501b05b4ebd3805c0d9cf3b4fe/tumblr_mk66z9VqGn1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

_Which of the following is NOT part of the Executive Branch?_

_A. Vice President of the United States_

_B. Secretary of Health and Human Services_

_C. Postmaster General_

_D. Chairman of the Appropriations Committee_

“Mr. Lehnsherr?”

Erik looked up from writing the week's quiz and found Charles standing in the doorway. He nearly swallowed his tongue.

Charles must have just finished up with track practice. His white t-shirt was almost completely soaked through with sweat. His eyes were bright, his cheeks were flushed, and his hair was curling over his forehead. The less Erik dwelled on the tiny gym shorts in school colors - and the lean, muscular white thighs underneath - the better. Thank God he wasn't an English teacher or he would have been composing some terrible poetry to those thighs right about now.

Erik cleared his throat. “Hello, Charles. What are you still doing here?”

“I had cross country practice.” He stepped into the classroom.

“Oh. And, uh. How was it?”

“Fine.” Charles smirked and nodded towards the classroom window. “You were watching me the whole time.”

Erik willed himself not to blush. It wasn't Erik's fault – Charles was the one who had chosen to do those obscene warm-up stretches right in front of Erik's window, and by the casual glances he kept sending in Erik's direction, Erik was certain that Charles knew exactly what he was doing.

“What are you working on?” Charles asked, approaching the desk.

Erik fiddled with his pen and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh. Just the, uh, quiz. For class.”

Charles sat on the edge of Erik's desk. The blue and yellow shorts gaped open, and Erik saw everything.

“You almost finished?”

“What?”

“With the quiz.”

“Oh.” He wasn't, really, but for the sake of having something to do with his hands, he shoved the quiz into a folder and put it away anyway.

A sly smile crept across Charles' face. “Does that mean you're done for the day?” He leaned in a little closer. “Do you feel like... doing something?” Charles' Adam's apple jumped up and down in anticipation beneath the creamy, vanilla-sweet skin.

“Charles, I don't think...” Erik ran his hand through his hair again, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Last week was... It was a mistake.” He tried to look Charles in the eye, but that didn’t help.

Charles stood from the desk. “Really.” That sly smile was back.

“Yes, really.”

He was standing right at Erik's side now, so close that Erik could smell the clean sweat, feel the heat radiating off Charles' body. The shorts had slipped down a little, exposing just a sliver of Charles' belly, just an inch away from Erik's fingertip.

“Well?” Charles asked.

Erik blinked. “I'm sorry – what did you say?”

“I want to show you something.” Again with the smirk. Erik wasn't sure if Charles' self-confidence was charming or annoying – especially for a high school student – but either way he found himself leaving his seat and following Charles down the hallway.

This was bad, Erik told himself. This was very, very bad. He really needed to get a hold of himself. He didn't know how Charles had gotten him so wrapped around his finger, but here Erik was, following him blindly through the school hallways, led by a little round butt in a pair of blue and yellow shorts. This was bad. This was pathetic. Erik really needed to get over this crush. He was the adult here; he needed to put his foot down.

Finally Charles stopped, turned around, put his arms around Erik's neck, and kissed him, his tongue slipping between Erik's lips, his fingers tugging at Erik's hair. Erik's own fingers found their way to that sliver of belly. The skin there was as soft as it looked, and he slipped his hand under the waistband of those blue and yellow shorts, around the back and down along Charles' perfect--

No, he couldn't.

Erik pulled away, breaking the kiss. “No, Charles, I told you, I don't –” He took a look around. “Where the hell are we?”

“Phys Ed storage locker.”

It was a windowless cage with a few cardboard boxes stacked in the corner and the odd basketball rolling across the floor.

“No one comes down here,” Charles continued, that cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth once again, revealing a small dimple in his right cheek. “Especially not this late. Everyone's gone home - except for you and me.”

Erik almost laughed. “No one comes down here? How do you know?”

“I've been at this school longer than you have!”

“You can't just... you can't just lure me down here in your little yellow shorts like it's nothing! What if someone was here? What if someone caught us?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. So dramatic. 'Lure you down here.' You act like I'm, like, dragging you down into my sex dungeon to have my way with you!”

This time Erik was the one who smirked. “Sex dungeon?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Charles unfastened the top button on Erik's pants. “Lighten up, Lehnsherr. No one's going to know.”

Then Charles smiled up at him again as he unzipped Erik's fly.

All thoughts of protesting stopped when Charles finally, slowly, pulled Erik's cock out and took a step closer - close enough that Erik could feel Charles' breath against his throat where his shirt collar was undone, close enough that Erik could feel Charles' own cock hardening through those silky yellow shorts, the ones that Erik no longer felt guilty about reaching into, not while Charles was slowly stroking Erik's shaft.

“Oh, Mr. Lehnsherr!” Charles moaned with a smirk, purposely cheeky. Embarrassing as it was, Erik felt the words rumble through him, and with a hitch in his breath, Erik just mumbled, “Faster.”

Charles smiled against his shoulder and followed his instructions, picking up the pace until Erik decided that standing there unsupported required more concentration than he was willing to spare, not when Charles' other hand was pushing down his trousers, not while there were expanses of pale freckled flesh for Erik's mouth to explore. It turned into a game of Twister: Erik's hand against the wall, Charles' foot up on a box, Erik's knee between Charles' thighs, Charles' finger in Erik's ass. Then Charles' finger became two, and with a choked cry, Erik came roughly into his student's hand. By then, Charles' little yellow shorts had fallen down to his ankles, and at this point, Erik could think of no reason why he shouldn't drop to his knees and take Charles' cock in his mouth, the way Erik had been dreaming about every spare second of his day.

This was bad, Erik thought. This was very bad.

*

Charles was the first one to turn in the quiz.

“Thank you, Mr. Xavier.”

Charles tapped the paper and winked at Erik, then walked back to his seat.

There were still twenty minutes left in the period, and none of the other students seemed close to finishing, so Erik took a peek at Charles' quiz.

First page: Correct, correct, correct, correct, correct, correct. At least no one could accuse Charles of sleeping with him for the grade.

When he turned the page, a small slip of paper fell out. He could feel Charles watching him as he unfolded it and read:

_4:30 – S.D._

“Does S.D. mean what I think it means?” Erik asked Charles, after the bell had rung and the other students had left the room.

“It does if you'll be there,” Charles said with a smirk, before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and leaving the room.

Oh, this was bad, Erik thought. This was very, very bad.


	6. Backstory (Angel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/bca560b6aea6be2c520e71ea1dcce555/tumblr_mkec3fClpa1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

“I really don’t understand what you have against Warren,” Charles called from inside the closet.

It was 7:00 in the morning and Erik was still in bed, watching Charles dress for the day. This was Erik’s favorite part of having the summer off: during the school year, Erik was usually up and out of bed before Charles had even opened his eyes, but during the summer months, Erik could lay in bed and watch while Charles rushed out the door. It was a nice change of pace.

“I don’t like him,” said Erik.

“So I gathered.” Charles stepped out of the closet only half dressed and holding two neckties. “Which one?” he asked Erik, who climbed out of bed, reached into the closet, and selected an entirely different tie.

“Smartass,” Charles mumbled, but put on the tie that Erik had picked out anyway. “I already told him that you and I were going to take him out to dinner after our meeting today, like we talked about last week. I’m guessing you’re planning to come down with a convenient headache?”

Erik leaned against the doorframe of the closet. “Definitely getting a migraine,” he said. “And I don’t understand why you’re meeting with him, of all people.”

“I told you: Worthington Industries owns a patent that we would like to—”

“I know, I know,” Erik interrupted, pouting just a little.

Charles gave him a look, the kind of look Erik hated: the kind that Charles didn’t intend to be condescending, but came off that way anyway. “This is my job, Erik,” he said. “Connections like these are half the reason I’m on the board in the first place.”

“Yes, I know that, but,” Erik crossed his arms over his bare chest and tried to think of a mature, emotionally responsible way to tell Charles that he thought Warren was an arrogant, patronizing, privileged little shit and he hated that Charles was friendly with him.

“Warren is an arrogant, patronizing, privileged little shit and I hate that you’re friendly with him,” was what he landed on.

Charles just rolled his eyes and held out two pairs of shoes for Erik to choose from. “Oh, he’s not that bad,” said Charles. “You’re too hard on him.”

Erik tapped the shoes in Charles’ left hand. “The first time he met me, he thought I was the super!”

It had only been a few weeks after they’d started dating for the second time. Charles had been living in a one bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side while he finished his degree at Columbia – the building was one of his mother’s rental properties, and in exchange for letting him live in one of the units, Sharon had Charles acting as the building’s property manager. He collected rents, dealt with brokers, interviewed possible tenants, showed empty apartments, worked with contractors, and generally ran the building. Erik thought it was all a little much, especially considering she still made Charles pay one third of what the rent on his apartment would have been, but Charles didn’t mind: he said it was good experience and it kept him busy.

Sharon also happened to give her friend’s wannabe playboy son, Warren Worthington III, a nice deal on an apartment in the same building. One Sunday afternoon, Warren stopped by Charles’ apartment to drop off his rent check, and while he was there, asked Charles if he felt like going out for a drink. Charles told him that he would have, but he was meeting with the building’s new super. Warren took one look at the surly guy looming over Charles’ shoulder and said, “Hey, congratulations on the new job, man. Don’t let this guy work you too hard!”

“That was an honest mistake! And that was more than ten years ago!” Charles said as he stepped out of the closet, finally dressed. “He did apologize!”

“Yeah, he apologized – and then still asked me if I would fix his radiator!”

Erik threw on a t-shirt and followed Charles out of their bedroom and down to the kitchen. Kurt was already up, eating a bowl of cereal and watching TV, but Marie, now in full teenager mode, probably wouldn’t appear until noon.

“And anyway that wasn’t the first time you met him,” Charles said as he started the coffee pot.

“Yes it was.”

“No, you met him at Raven and Hank’s wedding.” The wedding was held on the grounds of the Xavier estate during the summer following Charles’ graduation from high school. Erik wasn’t invited, strictly speaking, but Charles snuck him in anyway. “He was the one we found making out with Hank’s cousin behind the catering tent.”

Erik mulled that over as he pulled the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “I have no memory of that. What I do remember,” he said, “is that fascinated, horrified face he makes every time he asks me if I’m still teaching – which is every single time I’ve met him, by the way. Like I’m some sort of poor person novelty act.”

As soon as the words left Erik’s mouth he remembered that, at the moment, he was wearing Ralph Lauren pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from their summer home in Cape Cod, standing in the newly-remodeled kitchen of their six bedroom, five-and-a-half bath home in one of the wealthiest zip codes in the country, playing house-husband to a multi-millionaire. Times had changed. But if Charles wasn’t going to point out the irony then neither was he.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Charles said, “he makes the same face at me when he asks if I’m still working on my biology degree. That’s just how he is. He doesn’t understand _doing_ things, or wanting to do things. He thinks things just happen. It’s how he was raised.”

“Your family was just as wealthy as his and you’re not like that.”

“Yes, but I was always taught to work hard and fend for myself. Warren had things handed to him before he even realized he might want them.” Charles fished a clean travel mug out of the dishwasher and poured himself a cup of coffee to go. “But I like him,” Charles said. “He’s not a bad guy, and I’ve known him forever. I haven’t seen him in at least three years and the polite thing to do would be for you and me to have dinner with him tonight.”

Erik put a hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

“Plan on meeting us in the city around 6:00.”

“Do I have a fever? Feel my forehead.”

“I’ll text you the address of the restaurant later.”

“Is this a rash? Does that look contagious to you?”

“And don’t take the Bruckner because they’re doing construction.”

“I’m seeing spots, Charles. I think that’s a sign of a brain tumor.”

Charles grabbed an apple and his briefcase. “Oh, that reminds me: can you record Dog Cops? It’s on at nine.”

“Ack! My back! I think I just threw my back out!”

“Love you, too. See you later.”

 

*

 

After a long day of doing laundry, reading by the pool, and telling Marie that no, he would not drive her to the mall, Erik gave in and decided to go to dinner. Charles would have been grumpy at him for a week if he really did skip it, and anyway Erik had barely left the house since school ended. Having an excuse to put on some decent clothes and go somewhere without the kids in tow sounded pretty good. So he got dressed, left Marie in charge of making sure the house didn’t burn down, and headed into the city.

Erik assumed they would be having dinner somewhere near the Worthington Building, but just as he was crossing the bridge into Manhattan, he received a text from Charles:

_Change of plans – 128 East 7th._

That had to be a typo, Erik thought.

 _“Do you mean east 57th?”_ He texted back.

_No, East 7th St between 1st and Ave A. Restaurant is called Dao._

The East Village, thought Erik. This did not bode well.

 

*

 

Dao was a macrobiotic vegan restaurant wedged between a tattoo parlor and a hair salon that looked like a tattoo parlor. A sidewalk sign listed their specials for the night as Vegetable Medley Lettuce Wraps, Sage-crusted Seitan with Mushroom Gravy, and Malaysian Curry Stew. This was not Erik’s kind of place.

At least Charles looked delicious. By the time Erik found him, seated at a candlelit table in a far corner of the restaurant, he’d shed his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. If they were at home, Erik might have had Charles instead of dinner. He settled for greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

“How the hell did you end up here of all places?” asked Erik.

“It was Warren’s choice.”

“What? Why?”

Charles waggled his eyebrows. “He’s gone vegan.”

Erik arched an eyebrow right back. “And where is your little vegan friend?”

“Right behind you.”

Erik turned around, and before he could even get a look at him, Warren grabbed him and pulled him in for a big bear hug as if they were great old friends. That was not the Warren Erik knew: the Warren that Erik knew would have shaken his hand while looking past him for cute waitresses.

Finally he let go and took a step back, and for a moment, Erik wasn’t sure if it really was Warren – the guy that had just hugged him was grinning warmly at him and was dressed like he’d just stepped out of the Urban Outfitters catalog.

“It’s so good to see you! I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” Warren was saying. “Look at you, you look great! I love the hair – I didn’t know you had the Steve Martin gene!” he added with a chuckle.

“I prefer to think of it as the George Clooney gene.” Erik smirked and ran a hand through his hair, which, over the past couple of years, had gone rapidly and prematurely gray. “But look at you. You look like… Fabio.”

Warren’s preppy $100 haircut had grown past his shoulders in soft blond waves. “I know, my hair’s gotten so long,” he said. “Come on, sit down! I’m so happy to see you guys again! It’s been too long!”

They took their seats just as a waitress brought them all a pitcher of water with cucumber slices and a plate of naan. This was definitely not Erik’s kind of place. But then, it wasn’t Warren’s, either. At least, not the Warren that Erik had last seen at a bougie gastropub near Wall Street.

“What are you up to these days?” asked Warren.

Erik eyed him warily. “Oh, you know. Same old.” Here it was.

“Are you still teaching?”

Erik waited for Warren’s horrified face, but didn’t find it this time. Warren looked like he was actually interested in hearing Erik’s answer to the question. “Yeah,” he said, still suspicious. “Yeah, still teaching. Not right now, though – the school year ended a couple weeks ago.”

Warren smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “That is great. You’ve been there for ages, haven’t you? You must really love your work.”

“Uh, yeah.” Erik exchanged a glance with Charles, who looked terribly amused by the whole conversation. He always got a kick out of seeing Erik out of his element - he must have been looking forward to this all day.

“And what about the kids, how are they doing?” asked Warren.

“They’re good,” Erik said. “Marie is thirteen now, and Kurt just turned ten.”

Warren smiled to himself and shook his head. “I really have to hand it to you guys. Raising those two kids. I can’t imagine anything more selfless. I admire you, I really do.”

Erik was beginning to suspect that Warren was taking hallucinogenics. The waitress came by again, this time to drop off some appetizers, but Erik was too busy searching Warren for signs of intoxication to care about a plate of potstickers. His pupils were slightly dilated, but, then, it was dark in the room. Inconclusive, he decided.

“What about you, Warren? What have you been up to?” Erik asked. LSD? Ecstasy?

“Oh, man. Where do I begin? Well, I just moved back to New York a couple months ago,” Warren said. “Working at the company again. Not full time, though. Thought I’d ease into it, you know.”

Erik could have slugged him. Typical, he thought: it must be nice to be handed a powerful, high paying job and then just come and go as you please without any repercussions. But he let it go and instead asked, “Moved back from where? You said you just moved back to New York – where were you living before?”

Warren shrugged. “Here and there. Traveled around a lot. Spent some time in Paris. Buenos Aries. Copenhagen.” His eyes lit up. “Have you been to India?” he asked. “I spent two months in India last year. It was incredible. Best two months of my life.”

At that, Erik could not stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“The people there are amazing,” Warren went on. “They have so little – compared to us, anyway – and yet they have everything. Everything they really need, you know? And the food, and the colors… it’s a beautiful country.”

“Leave it to a millionaire to glamorize poverty,” Erik mumbled.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t hear you.”

Erik cleared his throat. “I said, ‘Leave it to a millionaire to glamorize poverty.’”

The Warren that Erik knew would have subtly sneered at him for a comment like that and then continued on as if Erik never existed. Erik was curious to see how this Warren would react.

He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and smiled at Erik. “That’s okay, man. That’s okay,” he said, patting Erik on the shoulder. “Hey, let’s order some food, huh? What’s for dinner?” He picked up the menu and started reading it over.

All Erik could think to do was give Charles a dumbstruck look, silently asking, “What is with this guy?”

Charles took the cue. “You seem like you’re doing really well, Warren. You seem really happy.”

Warren grinned. “I am happy. I’m really happy. I’m good, I’m healthy…” He drifted off, then, after a moment’s hesitation, pushed his hair behind his ears and leaned towards them. “Do you believe in angels?”

Charles choked on his cucumber water.

“Angels?” Erik asked. “Like, angel angels? Like, wings, halo, miracles… that kind of angels?”

Warren didn’t seem fazed by their reactions. “Yeah. Well, not literally with wings, but yeah – angels.”

Erik shook his head. “Nope, sorry. Don’t believe in angels.”

“I started dating this yoga instructor,” Warren explained, undeterred, “and one day after class we did a meditation with the Tibetan singing bowls, you know? Have you ever done that?” They both shook their heads. “It’s incredible. You have to do it sometime. Anyway we were about an hour and a half into it and I was… transported. I mean, I was somewhere else altogether. And I saw an angel.”

“An angel?” Charles asked, sounding slightly less skeptical than Erik, but only slightly.

“Yeah. It was just a presence, you know – I couldn’t really see her, because she was surrounded by this bright, beautiful, shining light.”

Charles arched an eyebrow. “What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything, really. She just projected this sense of calm and wellbeing, and, just, peace. Like, I was okay. Like I didn’t need to worry anymore – I was going to be all right.”

Erik had some trouble believing that Warren had ever in his life worried about whether or not he was going to be okay. “So, what, are you, like, a born again Christian now?” he asked.

Warren shook his head. “Born again, maybe, but not a Christian. I just don’t feel like there’s any one religion that could possibly get it right, you know? Like, how can the whole universe be summed up in one book?”

Great, Erik thought. Just when he thought Warren couldn’t get smugger, he went and became a philosopher. Just what the world needed: another rich white dude who thought he knew everything.

Charles, at least, was a bit more charitable. “That must have been incredible,” he said.

“It was! It was totally incredible!” Warren shrugged. “It changed my life.”

 

*

 

“You didn’t actually believe all that stuff about angels, did you?” Erik asked Charles later, after they’d parted ways with Warren and made their way to a bar for a couple of beers and a plate of buffalo wings.

“Well, I don’t know about angels, but he does seem like a different guy. There must be something to explain it.”

Erik took a sip of beer. “You said it yourself this morning – this is a guy who has had his entire life handed to him on a silver platter. And now he thinks it’s divine intervention. It’s like he’s inventing a religion to explain why his life is good, like being a blond-haired, blue-eyed, straight, male, American millionaire couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”

Charles was beginning to smile.

“And what the hell was he wearing?” Erik went on. “Does he actually go to work like that? Daddy handed him a VP position and he’s not even going to bother to put on real shoes?” He took a bite of chicken. “Do you know who I feel bad for? His assistant. I bet he’s got an executive assistant who gets paid less than I do who’s doing all his work. I’m right, aren’t I? It’s like _Working Girl_ or something. He’s off doing a sun salute in the middle of the day while she’s doing all his work and then going home to Staten Island to get cheated on by Alec Baldwin!”

Charles was outright grinning.

“What?”

“Nothing!” Charles said, sipping at his beer and smiling to himself.

“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? You think it’s funny when I get riled up like this.”

“No, no,” he chuckled. “I just had fun tonight, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s all fun and games until someone joins a cult.”

“By the way, I told him I’d go to yoga with him after work on Tuesday.”

Erik tried to glare at Charles, but he had a feeling that munching on a chicken wing while doing it might have made the glare a little less effective. “I don’t like him.”

Charles just laughed. “I know you don’t.”


	7. Begging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/badf7bac6811cab9eefdef9050c7994a/tumblr_mkhfcyjztT1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

“D'you wanna get married?”

He just blurted it out, just like that. He couldn't believe it. He'd been thinking about asking Charles for weeks, trying to build up his courage. He'd chickened out four times – four times! Four times he'd made a date with Charles with the intention of asking him to marry him, and four times he'd chickened out.

And there he was, standing over a sink full of dirty dishes, and it just fell out of his mouth. They weren't even talking about anything. They were doing dishes. They'd had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Reality TV was on in the background. But there it was. It was out.

Charles just blinked at him. “Me?”

“No, the cat. Yes, you!” Erik smiled.

“Wha – But.” Charles' mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “I just started grad school. Like, a week and a half ago.”

“Well, I didn't mean tonight.” Erik's smile was beginning to droop. “You look stunned,” he said.

“I'm just surprised.”

“We've talked about it before.”

“I know, but when we talked about it, I imagined I would be older. Like, in my thirties.”

Erik’s heart skipped a beat. “I'm in my thirties.” He already was that magical ‘older.’ He was him, this was his life, and he wanted to start making things permanent. He wanted to start building something more.

Charles was twenty-three. Erik tended to forget that sometimes.

Charles swallowed deeply, and he was blushing. “I know, but...”

Erik turned back to the sink, drizzled some dish soap into the pot from dinner, and let the hot water run. A warm tendril of humiliation was creeping up his spine.

“Erik,” Charles laid a hand on his arm, but Erik shook it away.

“Nevermind,” said Erik.

“No, not nevermind.”

Erik shut the water off and walked out of the kitchen. “I'm going to bed. Don't forget to feed the cat.”

“Erik, come on! Don’t be like that. Let’s talk about this,” Charles called after him, but Erik didn't turn around. And when Charles crawled into bed later that night, Erik pretended he was asleep.

 

*

 

Looking back on it, Erik never could remember much of the following school day. He'd arrived on time. He ate lunch at some point, or at least he thought he did. He was supposed to be teaching some part of the Constitution, which was his favorite document to teach, but he spent most of the day asking the students to read from the textbook. He just watched them. They were so young. Zits and hormones and voices that cracked. Crushes and dances and cliques. Charles was one of these kids. Not anymore, but he had been one of them just six years earlier. And now Charles was Charles, and he was still him. Charles was growing; he was stagnant. No wonder Charles didn't want to marry him: some embarrassing old guy with a three-day beard and a low-paying job handing out hall passes to kids who wanted to be anywhere in the world besides sitting in a classroom listening to him drone on about politics. He had no idea why Charles was still with him at all. Charles was a genius. And he was worth millions. Hundreds of millions. Thousands of millions, maybe, if that Forbes article was anything to go by. What the hell was he doing hanging around Erik's apartment eating spaghetti and meatballs and playing with the cat? He should be on a yacht in Greece or something, and Charles knew it. Of course he knew it – that's why he'd said no. Charles was just slumming with him.

Spiraling. This was what his mother called spiraling: when he'd get upset about something and it would marinate deep in the worst parts of Erik's mind until he made it worse and worse and worse. But just because he was spiraling didn't mean he was wrong. Just because he was spiraling didn't make it untrue.

He left school as soon as the last bell rang and drove home the long way – the very long way, turning the thirty minute drive into a ninety minute drive, and when he finally parked the car back home at his apartment, he couldn't remember any of it: just highway hypnosis and a solid, heavy heartache.

Charles was already inside waiting for him. He never should have given Charles a key. And worst of all, Charles looked great. He was dressed up, wearing a nice jacket and a blue button down shirt tucked into his jeans, and his shoes shined against Erik's dingy kitchen floor. And he was smiling like he had a secret to share.

“What are you doing here?” Erik asked as he dropped his shoulder bag to the floor.

Charles took a deep breath and grinned. “Ask me again.”

Erik blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“I'm ready this time. Go on. Ask me again.” He pushed his hair out of his face and put his hands on his hips. Superman pose – all that was missing was the cape.

Erik sighed and slumped down on the couch. “I don't think so, Charles.”

Charles was undeterred. “I made us reservations at Via Parma for seven, and then Raven and Hank might meet us for dessert to congratulate us. I'm sorry – I already told her. Come on, ask me. And then we can go celebrate.”

Charles was beaming at him so wildly that Erik had to hang his head between his knees to avoid looking at him. “No, Charles. I'm not – I think you were right last night.”

“What? Right about what?”

“You're twenty-three. You just started grad school. You're too young.”

Charles said nothing, and Erik still couldn't look.

“You shouldn't be stuck with me like this. You shouldn't be here,” he muttered, gesturing toward nothing in particular. “Stuck in a shitty apartment in the Bronx.”

“We said we were going to move to a new place when your lease was up,” Charles said in a small voice. “Together.”

“You're too young,” Erik said again. “You're too young. You could do anything. You could go anywhere.”

“I don't want to be anywhere else,” Charles said, his voice breaking. “Please, Erik, don't be like this.”

“Like what?” he snapped.

“Like this! The way you get upset and turn on me and blow everything out of proportion!” he shouted.

“I asked you to marry me and you said no!” Erik shouted right back. “What's out of proportion?”

“I didn't say no! Please, just ask me again. Please.”

“No. It was a mistake the first time.”

Tears began to well in Charles' eyes. “Please, Erik. I love you. Just ask me again. Please. Ask me again.”

Erik swallowed the lump that was building in his throat. “Do you know what I would have been doing when I was twenty-three if I had everything that you have? Do you think I would have been holed up in a dump like this with some loser like me?” He brushed a tear from his cheek. “You can do better than me. You should do better than me.”

Charles sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, making him look even younger than he was, making Erik feel just a little bit justified. “You're not a loser. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. That will always be true, for the rest of my life.” Charles paused to try to catch his breath, but he only ended up hiccupping and sobbing all over again. “Please ask me again, Erik. Please. I want to marry you. If you'll just ask me again, I'll say yes,” he begged.

Erik stared at his feet. “You were right the first time. You had the right answer the first time.”

Charles let the tears run down his cheek. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I don't want to break up with you. I love you.”

“So what then?”

Erik didn't know what to say.

“What now?” Charles pressed, when Erik didn't answer.

“I don't know,” said Erik. “Maybe we should just take a step back.”

“A step back,” Charles repeated. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. He took Erik's key off the ring, dropped it on the table, and walked out.


	8. AU: wereanimals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/d144e668e287ffd0988ac6083a9da961/tumblr_mkiecmi0WA1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

It looked like a dragon carrying a tennis racket. Or maybe an armchair. Or some kind of insect? Charles wasn’t sure, but it was green and Kurt was very excited about it.

“That is a great drawing!” he said. “Did you do that all by yourself?”

“Uh-huh!”

Charles was hoping to get an explanation, but Kurt just put it down on the table and led him to the other side of the classroom.

“And these are our fish. That one is named Barney and this one is Gordon.”

Charles barely had a chance to look in the fishbowl before Kurt grabbed his hand and led him over to the wall where the gold stars were posted. This was the first time Charles got to visit Kurt’s kindergarten, and Kurt was so excited to show him everything that he could hardly finish a sentence before he moved onto the next thing. Usually it was Erik who visited the kids’ classrooms and attended parent-teacher conferences and participated in school events – his schedule fit theirs, while Charles typically didn’t get home from work until after 6pm. Kurt knew that having Charles there was a rare occasion, and he wasn’t going to let it pass him by.

They’d gone through every item in the classroom before Kurt’s teacher returned from walking the rest of the kids to their school buses. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Xavier,” she said.

“That’s all right.” Strange to be called Mr. Xavier, he thought – and by someone who was probably only a couple of years younger than him – but he let it go and turned back to Kurt. “Why don’t you go play with those blocks while I talk to Miss April?”

Kurt didn’t look happy to be left out of the conversation, but after making a face, ran over to the corner and crash landed onto the carpet in the play area with a dramatic “KSSHH!”

“He’s always making sound effects,” Charles said, turning back to Kurt’s teacher. “Too many cartoons, I think.”

Miss April smiled. “He has a very active imagination. Why don’t you have a seat? Let’s talk.”

At first Charles assumed that she must have a pair of adult chairs somewhere in the room – for parent-teacher conferences like these, at the very least – but Miss April pulled out one of the tiny plastic kindergarten chairs and sat down at the play table without batting an eye. Charles followed her lead, all the while imagining what Erik and his long grasshopper legs must look like when he sat in these chairs.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” said Miss April. “When I said I wanted to talk about Kurt, I was expecting to see Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“I’m really glad I was able to come this time. I hope everything is all right with Kurt – he hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?”

“Kurt is a very bright boy, and he learns so much faster than the other kids. I’ve been bringing him books from the first and second grade classrooms to read because the picture books that we have don’t seem to be very challenging for him.”

That didn’t quite answer his question, Charles noticed.

“He takes after his father,” he said with a smile. “And we read a lot at home. I’m not surprised that he’s a little bit ahead.”

“I’m always happy to have students that learn as quickly as he does, but like I said earlier, he has a very active imagination.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Miss April took a moment to gather her thoughts, leaving Charles feeling a bit nervous. “Kurt has been finishing his work well ahead of the other students,” she explained, “leaving him with too much time without something to do. I try to keep him busy, but I can’t always give him my full attention; I need to make sure I spend time with the other students as well. And lately, with too much time to entertain himself, he’s been acting out.”

“Acting out?”

“For the past week or so, it seems like whenever he has a minute without something in front of him, he’s, well… he’s turning into a wolf.”

Charles blinked. “A wolf?”

“Growling, howling, panting. It’s a distraction to the other children, and it’s very disruptive.”

Charles tried not to smile.

“I’ve tried to speak to him about it,” she said, “but I’m not sure I’m getting through to him. I was hoping that you might have a talk with him.”

“His sister told him about werewolves a couple of weeks ago. I think she was trying to scare him, but he kind of latched onto the idea,” Charles explained. “Yes, I’ll talk to him about it.”

“And with your permission,” Miss April went on, “I would like to start giving Kurt some more challenging work. Would that be all right with you? I think it would be good for him, and depending on how he does, down the line we may want to talk about moving him up a grade level. The only downside is that it might make him feel a bit… separated from the other students.”

Charles looked over at Kurt, who was talking animatedly to himself while building something with Legos. “I think that would be fine,” he said. Erik would probably disagree, but then, Charles had always felt somewhat separated from the other kids when he was growing up and he’d turned out all right, hadn’t he?

“That’s good to hear,” said Miss April with a smile. “He really seems to take to things quickly. He gets his mind around something and he naturally wants to go deeper, and he gets really into it. That’s great with schoolwork…”

“…but not so great with werewolves,” Charles finished her thought. “I understand.” From the corner of the room, Charles heard a growling sound, and when he turned, Kurt was snarling and scratching at the carpet. Charles had to laugh.

They only stayed a little while longer: Erik was making dinner and Charles could tell that Miss April was ready to go home for the day, so he gathered up Kurt’s Spider-Man backpack and matching lunchbox and they headed home.

“What were you and Miss April talking about?” Kurt asked as they walked out to the car.

Charles thought for a minute about how he was going to approach this. He still thought the werewolf thing was funny, and he didn’t want to make Kurt feel bad, but Kurt really needed to stop growling and howling during class. “Well,” he said, “do you know what the word ‘nocturnal’ means?”


	9. Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/298c3a114567246ac3be3d1eec898619/tumblr_mkjx43uVxg1s3w3q6o1_r1_500.jpg)

Marie was in a mood. She was stomping down the trail ahead of them like Rambo through the jungle – trees, streams, and other hikers be damned. Charles was doing his best to keep up with her, and for the most part he had managed to stay close enough that he would at least catch a glimpse of her every few minutes, when the trail would go straight or the foliage would thin out a bit. He was huffing and puffing though – damn, she was in good shape. Kurt, too. Kurt had been right on Charles' heels the entire day, babbling about _Ender's Game_ , which he'd just read for the first time.

“And then Ender was like BSHWAA and then the other guys went and the room was upside down so they were like BLLSSHHHH,” he was saying, jumping off the rocks and trees, trying to mimic the Battle Room.

Charles was happy he'd liked the book – Charles was the one who'd recommended it to him – but they'd been hiking all day. Shouldn't he have been worn out by now? Charles was getting worn out just listening to him.

They finally reached the clearing just as the afternoon sun was winding down. Marie was already there, sitting against her pack and chugging her water bottle.

“All right,” Charles grunted as he sloughed the pack off his sweaty shoulders. “Home sweet home.”

Charles had been expecting to see a few other groups there setting up for the night, but aside from evidence of campers the night before (who had left more than footprints, unfortunately), there was no sign of human activity. For all he knew, they could be the only ones around for miles. He tried to think back to the other hikers he'd seen along the trail. They'd all appeared to be day hikers. Maybe they were the only lunatics camping that night after all. At least that meant they'd have the clearing to themselves, and they wouldn't have to worry about sharing one of the shelters.

“Where's Dad?” asked Marie. “I thought he was with you.”

Charles turned and looked back at the trail. No sign of Erik. “He's coming,” he said. What he meant was “Erik didn't feel like killing himself in ninety degree heat just because you were in a pissy mood,” but Charles held his tongue.

Kurt threw himself onto the ground with a dramatic flourish. “I'm dying,” he announced, then faked a few death throes before making a croaking sound and stopping dead, spread eagle, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Charles nudged him with his foot. “You're not dying, goober. Help me get us set up for the night.”

“Yes I am. I'm dying.” He gasped and croaked a few more times.

Maybe Kurt had the right idea, Charles thought. He should probably rest a few minutes before unpacking their things, he decided, and sat down on a log beside Kurt to wait for Erik.

Erik stumbled into the clearing about thirty minutes later.

“You okay, old man?” asked Charles.

“Shut up,” Erik said, and crashed onto the ground beside Kurt.

“Are we going to have to call a helicopter to get you down the mountain tomorrow?”

“Very funny.” When his breath slowed, he sat up with a grunt. “Wait til you're my age and then see if you can do it.” Erik looked around the clearing. “What the hell is that?” he barked, and pointed at the shelter. “I thought you said we were getting cabins!”

“I didn't say cabins. I said shelters.”

Erik stood up painfully and walked over to their shelter – a raised platform with canvas for roof and walls and two sets of bunk beds. “You definitely said cabin! I only agreed to this because you said cabin!” He peeked his head inside. “There's no bathroom!”

Charles sighed. “Of course there's no bathroom! We're in the middle of the woods!”

“Do you know who shits in the woods?” Erik shouted from inside the shelter. “Bears! Bears shit in the woods!”

“Come on, don't you want to get back to nature?”

Erik stepped out of the shelter, throwing the canvas aside with a dramatic swoop. “I can't go 'back' to nature. I'm not from nature. When I was a kid I had to walk ten blocks if I wanted to see a tree.”

“Uphill both ways in the snow?” Charles mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Erik stood on the platform, surveying the area like King of the Clearing. “Where's Marie?”

“She's right over there,” Charles said, and turned, but she was gone. Her pack was still leaning against the tree in the shade, but Marie was no longer sitting against it.

“Marie?” they both called, but no response.

Erik jumped down from the platform. “Goddammit, Charles. I thought you were keeping an eye on her.”

“She was right over there! Come on, she can't have gone far.”

Ruling out the direction Erik had just come from, Charles started walking further down the trail, leaving Erik to rest and stay with Kurt.

 _Why the hell would she wander off like this?_ Charles wondered as he trudged deeper into the woods, calling her name. She knew the rules. This whole expedition had been her idea to begin with. She'd gone camping with her Girl Scout troop and her friend's family, then announced one day that she wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail. It reminded Charles of when Raven was thirteen and got it in her head that she was going to be an actress and started asking their mother to get her an agent. The best Raven could talk Sharon into was letting her audition at the local community theater, and the best Marie could talk Erik into was one overnight camping trip with the whole family. Erik said that he wasn't going to “let her go wandering around the forest alone with psychos and bears.” Charles assumed that was why she was cranky and hiking ahead of the rest of them – she wanted to look like a serious hiker, not a little girl hiking with Daddy. Even so, she should know better than to wander from the campsite without telling anybody.

“Marie!” Charles called again.

The only answer came from the birds chirping and the crunching of the ground under his own feet.

“Marie!”

“WHAT?”

Charles spun around. He could see some movement just behind him and off to the right of the trail.

“Marie, what the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

Charles caught up with her just as she was shoving something in her pocket.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

Charles was fuming. “It wasn't nothing. Whatever it is, take it out of your pocket. Let me see it.”

Marie glared at him.

“Marie! Take it out of your pocket now!”

She rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket. “It's just my cell phone.”

“Your cell phone? You brought your cell phone?” He took it out of her hand. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I was trying to make a private phone call, if you don't mind.”

Charles gaped at her. “You were trying to call Remy?” He shook his head with a sigh and shoved the phone into his own pocket. “You're not getting this back until we get home.”

“Fine! There's no service up here anyway!”

“Of course there isn't! Did you think we would get to the top of the mountain and find a Verizon store?”

Marie rolled her eyes and stomped off towards the clearing. “Daddy, I'm not stupid!”

Charles stomped right after her. “Do you know what's stupid? Wandering off without telling anybody!”

“I wasn't wandering! I was looking for a signal!”

“That's wandering! You think you're going to hike the entire Trail? You can't even go twelve hours without texting!”

She flung a branch out of her way. Fortunately Charles was just far enough behind her to avoid getting whacked in the face.

When they got back to the clearing, Erik and Kurt were working on building a fire. Well, Erik was trying to build a fire while Kurt was dragging his feet around like a zombie muttering “Fire... fire...”

“Well, I found her,” said Charles.

Erik looked up from his book of matches and glared at Marie. “You know, we're going to have to have a little talk about wandering off into the woods alone.”

Marie sat down on a log with an exaggerated sigh. “I wasn't wandering off alone!”

“Oh yeah? Then what do you call it?”

Charles pulled the phone out of his pocket to show Erik. “She was trying to find a cell signal to call Remy.”

Erik went livid. “You were _what?”_

“I've already confiscated her phone and she's not getting it back until we get home.”

Erik snatched the phone out of Charles’ hand. “No way. No cell phone for a week. Starting after we get home.”

“What?” Marie cried. “That's not fair!”

“And I don't want you hanging around with Remy anymore, either.”

Marie stomped her foot. “Why do you hate him so much?”

“He's a bad influence and he's too old for you.”

“No he's not!”

“You're thirteen and he's sixteen. Older boys want things you're too young to give.”

“That's totally not fair! Nana Edie told me that you and Uncle Charley –”

“That's how I know!” Erik interrupted her. “You’re supposed to be learning from our mistakes, not repeating them!”

Marie crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm not going to stop seeing him.”

“You can see him all you like! It's not the seeing I'm worried about. It's the touching.” Erik pointed at her. “He touches you, he's dead. Understand?”

Marie rolled her eyes. “Oh my God...”

“Not one finger!”

Charles threw his hands in the air. “Can we please stop talking about Remy? Can we go just one day without talking about Remy?”

“Fine,” said Erik, and turned back to Marie. “Why don't we talk about all the ways you could have gotten yourself killed today by marching off without us? Do you know how quickly a bear can tear you limb from limb?”

Charles, Marie, and Kurt all just stared at him.

“Why are you so obsessed with bears?” asked Kurt.

“I'm not obsessed with bears. I just don't want to be eaten by one.”

Charles shook his head. “Let's just drop it for now and eat, all right? I'm starved.”

“Fine by me,” Erik said, and lit the fire.

Just like at home, Erik was in charge of the food, and just like at home, letting Erik cook dinner was the best way to get him out of his sour mood. Charles was relieved to see him humming and talking to himself as he prepared the cook site; Charles had been worried that the whole camping experience would be too far out of Erik's comfort zone and he'd be cranky and miserable the whole time. But he seemed to be cheering up as he stoked the fire and started pulling dinner supplies out of his bag.

Too many dinner supplies.

“Um, Erik? How much food did you bring?”

He shrugged. “Not that much.”

“I told you to bring hot dogs.”

Charles watched as he unloaded his bag. Sausages. Half a loaf of Italian bread. Peppers. Onions. Aluminum foil. Four potatoes. A bottle of olive oil. A fold-out grill surface to set up over the fire. A frying pan. A large knife. Salt and pepper grinders. A container of Italian blend herbs.

“Geez, Erik, I told you to pack light!”

“I did! I didn't bring the cast iron, did I?”

He continued unpacking. A bag of marshmallows. Two large bars of Ghirardelli chocolate. Graham crackers. A small saucepan. Packets of instant hot cocoa. Cups. A container of rolled oats. A tin of ground coffee. A small French press. Sugar packets.

“You've got to be kidding me,” said Charles. “No wonder you were moving so slow. Your pack must have weighed a ton! This is why God invented granola bars!”

Erik scoffed. “You need more than a granola bar in your system if you're going to hike ten miles.”

Charles just shook his head and went to sweep out the shelter.

About twenty minutes later, the smell of sautéed onions started to waft through the campsite, causing Charles' stomach to rumble. Kurt and Marie must have had the same reaction, because they all wandered over to the fire to watch Erik cook while they drooled hungrily. Charles may have actually groaned with pleasure when Erik scooped the sausage, peppers, and onions into the sliced bread.

“This is the best food I've ever had in my life,” Charles said as he scarfed it all down.

“Mmm hmm,” the kids agreed.

Erik grinned around a mouthful of food. “Just don't tell my mom I brought sausages,” he said with a wink.

Dinner was devoured in ten minutes flat, and then they stuffed themselves with s'mores until the marshmallows ran out. By then it was fully dark out, and the four of them sat around the fire for a while, tired and happy and full.

Marie scooted a little closer to Erik. “I'm sorry I walked off without telling you.” She was laying it on thick, in Charles’ opinion, giving Erik doe eyes and snuggling up beside him. But Erik’s soft spot for Marie was a mile wide, and he fell for it every time.

He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “That's all right, munchkin. Just don't do it again.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cleanup took longer than Charles expected, because along with their entire kitchen, Erik had packed an anti-bear checklist that he checked and double checked and triple checked. By the time everything was washed and hidden and hung from trees and buried to Erik's satisfaction, Kurt and Marie had already claimed the top bunks. Charles laid out his sleeping bag on the bunk under Kurt and Erik settled in under Marie. When they were all in bed, Charles turned out the lantern.

“Good night,” he said.

“Good night.”

Silence.

“ _Grrrrrrr_ ,” Kurt began to growl, scratching at the canvas wall.

“Stop it, Kurt!” said Erik. “That's not funny!”

Marie started to laugh.

“ _Rrrwowwwww_ ,” Kurt went on. “That's not me, I swear! I think there’s something outside! _Rrrrrrrrr...!_ ”

Charles laughed and gently kicked at Kurt's cot from underneath. “Knock it off. You're scaring your dad.”

“It's not me!”

“I’m not scared! I just don’t want to get mauled!”

Kurt and Marie both giggled.

Charles rolled his eyes and turned over onto his side. “All right, that’s enough. I'm going to sleep now. Good night.”

He closed his eyes and listened. Kurt dropped off first, just a few minutes later. Marie was asleep right behind him, snoring just a little.

Charles, on the other hand, couldn't get comfortable in that disgusting cot. He turned over and over and over. He stared up at the bunk above him. He listened to the wind through the trees, to the crickets chirping and the owls calling to each other. He turned over again with a deep sigh and looked across the room. Even in the dark, he could see Erik's eyes shining towards him.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“I can't sleep,” Erik whispered back.

“Me either.”

“Is there room in that bunk for one more?” Erik asked.

Charles gathered his sleeping bag and smooshed himself to one side. “I think I can make room.”

Erik got out of bed and brought his sleeping bag over to Charles' bunk. “Get up,” he said.

“Why?”

“Get up. I'm going to fix the bed.”

Charles climbed out of the bed, and when asked, handed his sleeping bag over to Erik. Erik unzipped Charles' and laid it out flat over the cot, then unzipped his own and laid it on top for them to share as a blanket. They climbed back into the twin-sized bunk bed, Erik spooned against Charles' back, his arms tight around his waist.

“This is much better,” Erik murmured.

“Mmhmm.”

“Hey Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I changed my mind. I do want a helicopter to bring me down tomorrow.”

Charles huffed a laugh. “I'll see what I can do.”


	10. AU: Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows [Chapter 7: Begging](http://archiveofourown.org/works/717333/chapters/1381180).  
>  
> 
> **Warning: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**
> 
>  
> 
> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/5ca010289fb1cccb14dffe6c5ae1814b/tumblr_mkni4pz9to1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the warning. This is a sad one. If you're here for fluff and funny, skip this chapter.

The first time Charles called, Erik didn't answer.

It had been five weeks since the proposal and this was the first time Charles had called. After a two weeks had passed, Erik had gathered all of the things Charles had left at his apartment and put them in a box near the door, just in case Charles called and said he wanted to come pick them up. Another three weeks and Erik hadn’t heard from him, and the box of Charles’ things was still sitting by the door.

But now Charles was calling, and though he’d spent the past five weeks staring at his phone, wondering when that call would come, now that it was here, Erik didn’t want to answer. He wasn't sure what he would say and he was too afraid to hear what Charles might say. He was just being a coward, but still, he didn't answer.

Erik didn't answer the second time Charles called either, but this time, when Erik let it go to voicemail, Charles sent a text:

_Call me back. It's important._

Erik decided he would wait twenty minutes before calling Charles back, just to make sure it looked like he was very busy and had a life outside of hoping Charles would call. It was Monday afternoon, after all. There was no reason he couldn’t pick up the phone - the students had all gone home for the day, and Erik was just sitting at his desk doing some grading - but even so, he didn’t want Charles to think that he’d spent the past 38 days waiting for his phone to ring.

At seventeen minutes and thirty-six seconds, Erik decided he couldn’t wait any longer, and dialed Charles’ phone number. He answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Erik gulped. “Hi. Um. I saw you called.”

“Yeah.”

Charles paused, and just as Erik was beginning to say, “So, how are you?” Charles blurted out, “My sister died.”

Erik’s heart stopped.

“Wh- what?” he sputtered. “Raven…?”

“And Hank.”

“Oh my God,” Erik muttered, hanging his head between his knees. “Charles, that’s… I’m so sorry. What happened?”

“They were hit by a drunk driver. On Friday night.” Now that Charles was saying more than three words at a time, Erik could hear the wavering in his voice, the unevenness of his breath. “They were just going out for dinner and a movie. Date night.”

All Erik could say was, “Oh, Charles.”

“I thought I should tell you. I know you and Raven… you were friendly. I know she liked you a lot. Hank, too.”

Erik heard a baby start wailing in the background. “Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m still here. I’m at their house. I’m still… I’m still babysitting.” Charles must have walked away from whatever quiet corner he’d called from, because Erik could hardly hear him over the crying and cartoons.

“I’m coming over,” Erik said. “I’m leaving now.”

“You don’t have to do that.” It was the weakest protest Erik had ever heard from Charles.

“I want to. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Charles barely hesitated a second before he said, “Okay. See you in a bit.”

 

*

 

Charles looked like he’d aged ten years since the last time Erik saw him. His hair was a greasy mess and he hadn’t shaved, and he had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. The baby in his arms – Kurt, only a few months old – was quiet, the pacifier bobbing in and out of his mouth. But his face was red from crying, his big blue eyes were wet with tears.

Erik wanted to hug Charles and kiss him and tell him it would be all right, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“Hey,” he said instead, and kissed him on the cheek in the polite, detached way that Erik remembered from his father’s funeral. When Charles didn’t say anything in response, Erik turned to baby Kurt, smiled softly, and ran a finger over his soft, chubby cheek. “Hi, buddy,” he said quietly. Kurt got shy and buried his face in Charles’ shoulder, which Erik now saw was stained with snot and tears.

“He’s pretty tired,” Charles said. “I don’t think he remembers you right now.” He scratched at his beard. “I’m sorry – I’m a mess.”

“It’s all right. Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

Charles shrugged.

Because they’d broken up, that’s why.

“I didn’t really believe it,” was what he said. “When the doctor said she didn’t think Raven would make it, I didn’t believe her. But then yesterday…” Charles paused to take a breath, to try to stop a sob, but it was no use. His eyes welled to match Kurt’s. “Hank was killed on impact,” he choked out. “Raven passed away yesterday morning.”

Erik’s arms hung uselessly at his sides when they should have been around Charles.

Charles wiped his tears and said, “Let me put him down. He’s getting heavy,” and disappeared into the back of the house before Erik could say anything more.

The last time Erik had been to Hank and Raven’s house had been Labor Day. They’d had about twenty people over for a barbecue, and the house had been full of people going in and out, drinking beer and playing wiffle ball in the back yard. Erik had spent most of the day playing with Marie instead of the adults, and Charles had joked to Raven that if she wasn’t careful Marie might try to go home with him.

The house was a mess now – toys everywhere, the curtains drawn, bottles and pacifiers strewn throughout the living room. Erik didn’t blame Charles for not having the energy to clean up, but it had only been three days and already it looked like a tornado had blown through. Erik picked up the cushions from the floor and returned them to the couch. He then lifted up a blanket that was draped off the side of a chair and found Marie underneath.

She glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything. She was busy turning the pages in a picture book laid out in front of her on the floor.

“Hi, Marie.” He crouched down beside her. “Do you remember me? Uncle Charley’s friend?”

Marie nodded without looking up from her book. “You got me the doll house,” she said quietly.

Erik had spent more money on Marie’s third birthday than he had on Charles’ that year. That was back when he thought he was going to be her uncle. Now he was nobody.

Charles reemerged from putting Kurt down for a nap looking like he’d splashed some cold water on his face and combed his hair. “Kurt’s getting so big,” he said with a shrug, as if he didn’t know what else to say. Erik didn’t know what to say, either.

“Uncle Charley, I’m hungry,” said Marie.

Charles ran a hand over his face and took a breath. “Okay, sweetie, we’ll get you something.” He headed towards the kitchen with a nod to Erik that he ought to follow.

It looked as though they were running out of clean dishes. There was a dishwasher in the kitchen – a grand luxury in Erik’s world – but the sink was overflowing with used cups and plates. Still Charles found another plate in the cabinet rather than wash a dirty one.

“How are you holding up?” Erik finally asked.

“I’m not,” Charles sniffled and took a loaf of bread down from the shelf. “I have to start making arrangements. Calling people. I need to find a –” He gulped. “Funeral home.” He rummaged through a drawer to find a clean knife, then opened up the peanut butter jar that was already sitting on the kitchen counter. Erik wondered how many peanut butter sandwiches Marie had eaten over the past three days, or how many Charles had eaten.

“She knew I was still upset about what happened between you and me,” Charles went on, spreading the peanut butter over the bread. “She told me I should come over and watch them for a night. She said it would be a good distraction.” He threw the knife in the sink with the rest of the dishes. “Hank didn’t feel like going out, but Raven told him that she hadn’t spent all day talking me into babysitting for nothing, and they were damn well going to see a movie. She said if he stopped whining about it she’d even let him pick which one. I don’t think she did, though. I think they went to see that one with that actor she had a crush on. Whatever his name is.” He stared at the sandwich for a moment, then pulled another clean knife out of the drawer, muttering, “I forgot to cut the crusts off.”

“Do you need me to call anyone?” Erik asked. “I can call people. I can help you make arrangements.”

Charles paused in making the sandwich. “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure what needs to be done. I already called mom’s lawyer. He said he would start looking at the house and the finances and stuff. There are still family members to call. I should do that, though. I should be the one to call.”

“What about Marie and Kurt?” Erik asked. “What’s going to happen to them?”

“My mom’s going to take them.”

Somehow Erik doubted that. Charles had been all of about twelve when Sharon had decided she’d had enough of the whole parenting thing and started treating Charles like a thirty year old employee – Erik had a hard time believing that she would be willing to start all over again with an infant.

“She is?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

“Where the hell else are they going to go?” Charles snapped, then took a deep breath. “They’ll go to my mom’s. I don’t know when she’s picking them up, though. I keep calling but she’s not answering the phone.”

“What about Hank’s parents?”

“They’re in their seventies. They live in a nursing home in Florida, and his father has Alzheimer’s.” Charles cut the now-crustless sandwich in half and threw the second knife into the sink. “My mom will take them,” he said again. “She has to. My mom will take them. There’s nowhere else for them to go.”

Charles was shaking – his hands were shaking, and his jaw was quivering. Finally he looked up at Erik, maybe for the first time since Erik had walked in the door, and a tear rolled down his cheek. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly.

Erik pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly as Charles began to cry. “I’ve missed you, too,” he said, and kissed Charles hair.

They stayed there for a while, Charles sobbing into Erik’s shoulder, until Charles’ breath slowed and he pulled away, wiping at his eyes and saying, “I forgot about the sandwich. I need to bring Marie her sandwich.”

“I’ll bring it to her,” said Erik. “Why don’t you let me watch them for a couple hours? You should take a break – go home, take a shower. You’ll feel better.”

Charles thought that over. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Still Charles hesitated. “We need to talk, don’t we.” It wasn’t a question.

“Not today. Here, take my car.” He handed Charles his keys, and Charles took them.

“If my mom comes to pick them up,” Charles said, “I packed them a couple of overnight bags to start. They’re in their bedrooms upstairs.” He looked like he believed it, so Erik did, too.

“Okay.”

“You know how to change a diaper, don’t you?”

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

Charles looked like he might say something, but after a moment, just nodded and turned to leave. He told Marie he’d be back soon and kissed the top of her head, then grabbed his jacket and went home.

Erik was definitely going to clean up a bit while Charles was gone, he decided. That was one thing he could do. He thought it might make the house seem a little less gloomy – not that it wouldn’t be gloomy at the moment anyway. He thought he might make something for dinner, too. Something that wasn’t peanut butter. He thought Charles might need it.

But first he brought Marie her sandwich.

“Here we go,” he said, and sat down beside her on the floor.

Marie picked up the sandwich without looking away from her picture book. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice, then took a bite.

“What are you reading?” Erik asked, and looked over her shoulder. It was a big drawing of a three ring circus, with animals and clowns and acrobats and lion tamers. He pointed to a lady being shot out of a cannon. “Who’s that?” he asked.

“That’s mommy.” She pointed to the strong man. “And that’s daddy.”

Erik’s heart lurched. “What about Kurt? Is he there?”

Marie looked at him as though he’d said something very, very stupid. “Kurt’s a baby.” She turned back to the book then, and pointed to one of the clowns. “That’s Uncle Charley.” Then she pointed to an acrobat. “That’s me.”

“What about me?” Erik asked. “Can I be in the picture?”

Marie studied him for a minute, then looked back at the book. “You can be the lion tamer. I guess.”

Erik had to smile. “You guess?”

Marie took another bite of her peanut butter sandwich and turned the page. The next picture was a ballet, with a big stage full of ballerinas and frightened-looking stage hands and musicians carrying instruments and old ladies in the audience. Erik tried to ask her about the people in that picture, to see who they might be, but Marie had gone quiet. She didn’t feel like talking anymore, and when Erik stood up to start putting things away, Marie asked him if he’d pull the blanket over her again. It was the least he could do.


	11. Forced to Marry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b3e6c3dd75bc8efca77e8848424b8ac1/tumblr_mkvc4utpCu1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Remy tasted like Doritos.

It was kind of gross, actually. Maybe she should have thought about this before they started kissing. Maybe she should have made him brush his teeth or something. But that would have been weird – what would she have said? She couldn’t have told him that his breath smelled like Doritos or he would have thought she didn’t like him or that she was shallow or mean or something. But it really was kind of gross. And if he tasted like Doritos, then she probably tasted like Dad’s spaghetti sauce. What if he thought she tasted gross? What if he went and told everyone at school that she was gross and had tomato breath? And oh my God, what if she wasn’t even doing it right? They were kissing and all she was thinking about was how gross his mouth tasted – she should have been paying more attention! What if he thought she was a bad kisser? What if he told everyone she was a bad kisser? Was she supposed to be doing something with her tongue? What about her teeth? And what about the wet smacking kissing sounds they were making – did that mean they were doing it wrong or was that what it was supposed to sound like?

“ _Ahem_.”

Marie and Remy broke apart and discovered Erik standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking murderous.

“You! And you!” Erik pointed. “Upstairs! Right now!”

Marie wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Dad, oh my God!”

“Now!”

Marie knew better than to argue with him when he got this way, so with an apologetic glance towards Remy, who looked absolutely terrified, she stood from the couch and followed Erik up the stairs to the living room, Remy trailing close behind.

“Dad, we weren’t –”

“Sit,” he interrupted, pointing. Apparently he was down to only one syllable. Marie hadn’t seen him this angry since Kurt wrote all over his car with a Sharpie. Usually when he got upset, he would yell at them, but this time he wasn’t saying anything. He was pacing back and forth, making a face like he was chewing on something sour – Marie wondered if he wasn’t going to turn around and breathe fire at them like a dragon. He looked mad enough to do it.

To Marie’s horror, he did something even more embarrassing: he turned on Remy.

“Two weeks ago, I told you that you were not allowed over here anymore,” Erik said. “Do you remember that?”

Remy cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap. “Uh, yes, sir,” he said.

“Oh, really? Then why were you just in my basement making out with my daughter?” He didn’t wait for Remy to respond before he turned to Marie. “And how many times have I told you that you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore?”

“But I –”

“He is a liar and a thief!”

“He’s not a thief!”

“He stole my golf clubs!”

“No, he didn’t! Why would he steal your golf clubs? He doesn’t even like golf! And neither do you!”

“And besides that,” Erik continued, undeterred, “you are too young to be making out on the couch with a boy!”

“I’m thirteen!” Marie cried.

“Exactly!” Erik shouted back. “And again, I told you no boys until you’re fifteen, and you didn’t listen to me about that, either! I don’t know what I have to say to get through to you these days! No boys. No Remy. End of story!”

Marie sat forward in her seat. “You’re the one who’s not listening to me! You won’t even give him a chance! You don’t even know him!”

Just as Marie was starting to feel like she was holding up her end of the argument, Erik arched an eyebrow at her, and she had the sinking feeling that she’d said the wrong thing.

“All right,” said Erik. “Why don’t we get to know Mr. LeBeau.” He turned to Remy. “And apparently that is your real name, because I checked.”

Again Remy barely moved, only nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”

“Where are you from?” asked Erik.

“Louisiana, sir.”

“And how did you come to be living on my street in New York?”

“My father works for the oil company and they transferred him to the New York office last year.”

“All right,” said Erik. “And where did you get that annoying moped scooter thing I see you riding up and down the street?”

Remy fidgeted a little. “I bought it.”

“From where?”

“From my brother’s friend.”

“I’ll bet.”

Marie rolled her eyes. “Why do you just assume he’s lying to you?”

“Because he is, Marie! I know you can’t see it because you have a crush on him, but he’s a delinquent!”

Marie turned bright red. “Dad! Oh my God!”

“He cheats, he cuts class, he’s in and out of detention,” Erik went on. “He’s stolen and vandalized school property!”

“How do you know?” shouted Marie. “He doesn’t go to your school!”

“Do you think I don’t know teachers in this town’s high school? I asked! I asked multiple sources, and they all told me the same thing: he’s a little degenerate! And pretty soon he’s going to start wanting to do more than just kiss you, and if you think I’m going to sit back and let it happen, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Marie felt like she was blushing from her ears to her toes. She couldn’t even look at Erik when she told him, “We’re not… you know. Doing anything.”

“You’d better not be!” said Erik. “Remy’s dick is not welcome in my house! Not even to pee, you got me? Take it to the bushes!”

Marie covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God, Dad, you’re so embarrassing!”

“No, you know what would be embarrassing? Making Charles a grandfather before he’s thirty-five – that would be embarrassing! That may be normal in the Bayou or wherever, but not where I’m from!”

Marie was so humiliated she could almost cry. She couldn’t even say anything – she just let out a little embarrassed squeak from behind her hands.

“And just to be clear, Mr. LeBeau,” Erik went on, “if you did get her pregnant, which I know is one of those things you country boys like to do, do not think you are just going to run off and leave all the responsibility on her. I will track you down and I will make you marry her, don’t think I won’t!”

Remy muttered, “Aren’t you supposed to be holding a shotgun when you say stuff like that?”

“What was that?” asked Erik.

“I do not plan on getting Marie pregnant, sir.”

Erik shouted back, “Last I checked, intent was not an effective form of birth control!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

They all jumped. Charles was standing at the entrance to the living room gawking at them. Marie had forgotten that it was Friday – Uncle Charley liked to come home from work early on Friday afternoons in the summertime.

It looked like Erik had forgotten, too, but he recovered from the surprise quickly, and told Charles, “I caught them fooling around on the couch in the basement.”

Marie braced herself, and she could tell that Remy was doing the same as Charles sighed and set his briefcase down on the floor. He didn’t say anything at first. He just put his hands on his hips and looked at them, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Marie and Remy as though he were watching a tennis match. With Uncle Erik, it was easy to tell when he was mad, but with Uncle Charley, Marie was never quite sure until it was too late. She glanced over at Erik for a sign, but he was just as stone-faced as Charles.

She jumped a little in her seat when Charles finally moved. He walked over to the couch and sat down beside her. He paused then, for a moment, and leveled her with a very serious glare, before asking quietly, “Are you using protection?”

“Oh my God!” Marie cried again, and buried her face in her hands once more. “No! We’re not—Daddy, we’re not having _sex!_ ” she whispered. “We were just kissing!”

“You were kissing,” Charles repeated.

“Yes!” said Marie. “That’s it, I swear!”

Charles looked to Remy, who nodded, then to Erik, who told him, “They were making out on the couch.”

The house fell deathly silent as they waited for Charles to react, but aside from a slight twitching in his jaw, he barely moved.

“Go home, Remy,” he finally said.

Remy turned to Marie as though he didn’t know what to do.

Charles glared at him. “Remy, you have ten seconds to get out of my house.” When Remy didn’t move, Charles pulled his phone out of his pocket. “If you don’t leave, I’m sending this photo I took of your moped’s VIN number to the police department.” Still Remy didn’t move. “Ten. Nine. Eight.”

“Bye, Marie.” Remy stood and rushed to the front door. “I’m sorry! I’ll text you later!” The front door slammed heavily, echoing throughout the house.

Charles sat back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other and pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. Marie and Erik exchanged a glance, waiting to hear what Charles was going to say.

“Erik,” he muttered, “I swear to God, you are the biggest drama queen I have ever met in my entire life.” Before Erik could argue, Charles shouted, “She’s thirteen! She kissed the boy who lives down the street!”

“They were making out!” Erik shouted back. “They were using their tongues! His hand was on her knee!”

“Her _knee?_ Good heavens, Erik! Not her _knee!_ You never know what might happen when _knees_ get involved!”

If Marie thought Erik looked mad before, that was nothing compared to the way he looked now.

“I know you’re young,” he said, “and you want to be the ‘cool’ parent, but –”

“Do you know what I was doing when I was her age?” asked Charles.

“I don’t think your childhood is any kind of benchmark for normalcy!” Erik was shouting again, and a vein in his forehead was beginning to throb. “And regardless of what you think of _thirteen-year-olds_ getting physical, she has disobeyed me over and over again – I know you don’t approve of Remy any more than I do, and she keeps ignoring me when I tell her she is not allowed to see him anymore.”

“I was getting to that,” Charles said, and turned back to Marie. If she’d thought that Charles was on her side, she’d been completely wrong – Charles looked just as angry with her as he was with Erik. “Erik is right: we have told you time and time again that you are not allowed to hang out with Remy, and you have ignored us at every turn. You’re grounded until school starts next week.”

“That’s not fair!” cried Marie.

“And after that, you have two options: you can do extracurricular activities after school, or you’re going to work for me.”

“But –”

“If you can’t be trusted to behave and obey our rules during your free time, then you’re not getting any. You will tell me whatever clubs or teams you join and what days they meet, and whatever days are leftover, I will expect you to come straight home after school and work for me in my home office.”

Erik’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to put her to work? She’s a child!”

“Oh, give me a break! When I was thirteen, my mother had me processing the billing for her department and reviewing her contracts before she sent them to legal. And,” he went on, “I was having sex with her secretary, who thought I was nineteen. I think Marie can handle alphabetizing my filing cabinet for a couple of hours after school if it means keeping her out of trouble.” He turned back to Marie before she started whining again. “And when you prove to us that you can keep out of trouble on your own, we can talk this over again, understand?”

Marie balked at him. She didn’t even know what to say.

“Good. Now go to your room,” said Charles. “Right now. I’m not telling you twice.”

“Fine!” Marie yelled as she stomped out of the living room. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore anyway! I hate you!” She ran up the stairs to her bedroom, slammed the door as hard as she could, and crashed face down on her bed crying.

This was absolutely the worst day of her entire life, Marie thought. Not only had she kissed Remy with tomato breath, but she was just about to start high school and already she wasn’t allowed to have any fun. She wasn’t going to make any friends. Not that she would have made any friends anyway, if Remy was going to tell the whole school that she was a bad kisser with obnoxious parents who tasted like pizza. High school was already ruined, which meant that college was ruined and her whole life was completely over.

After a few minutes, she heard another door slam – it was the door to Charles and Erik’s bedroom, where they had apparently gone to continue fighting. Their room was right next to Marie’s, and she could hear snippets of their conversation through the wall: _“She’s too young!”_ and _“Everything is like the end of the world with you!”_ and _“So now you want to treat Marie the way your mother treated you?”_ and _“You’re acting like I’m sending her off to a sweat shop!”_ and _“You like it when I touch your knees!”_

After a while they stopped shouting, and then Marie could hear them laughing a little, then it went really quiet, which meant they were probably doing exactly the kinds of things that would get her sent to boarding school if Erik caught her doing them with Remy.

Across the room, her phone vibrated on her dresser.


	12. Projected Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/f9538049d40d5eb691f0e2f338801018/tumblr_mkwjgqj0kW1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Charles took Monday off to let the swelling go down a bit and give his face some time to heal, but by Tuesday morning he was already itching to get out of the house, so he got up, got dressed, and went to school.

He debated stopping at the drug store on the way to pick up some concealer, but he didn’t know the first thing about makeup and he was embarrassed at what the cashier might think. It turned out to be a moot point anyway, because when he checked the store hours, he found out that they didn’t even open until after first period. He considered sneaking into his mother’s room to borrow some of hers, but that seemed like more trouble than it was worth. He’d been avoiding the main house altogether these days, preferring to treat his bedroom suite as his own apartment, living off takeout and the hotplate he bought at the discount store in White Plains. His mother didn’t seem to notice – she expected him to take care of himself, and he did. She didn’t concern herself with details. She didn’t know about the hotplate, though, and he didn’t know which would upset her more: that he was eating food he made on a hotplate in his bedroom or that he was shopping at discount stores in White Plains. With one last glance in the mirror, he shrugged, got in the car, and drove to school.

It wasn’t so bad. A few kids gave him some strange looks, and of course Moira cornered him in the hallway and asked him where he got the shiner (he lied). His teachers all asked if he was all right (he was fine) or if he was having trouble at home (no, he wasn’t), but for the most part, it wasn’t a big deal. That was one thing he’d learned as he got older: nothing was ever as bad as he thought it was going to be. He used to worry about tests at school and assignments at work and consequences, but after a while he started to notice that no one else seemed to worry about them or care much that he was so worried, and the things he worried about never turned into the big calamity he was expecting. Even getting punched in the face wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. It hurt like hell, sure, but a couple of days had passed and it didn’t hurt as much anymore, and the people at school didn’t seem to think it was all that notable. After a few days, it would be like it never happened. Life went on.

The only person who looked genuinely alarmed to see Charles walk into class with a black eye was Mr. Lehnsherr, who pulled him aside before the bell and asked, “Are you okay? What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Charles told him, and took his seat.

Mr. Lehnsherr frowned hard enough to put a few lines in his forehead, but when class started, it was like any other day. Not a big deal. Life went on.

The lecture that day was about the House of Representatives. They talked about how Congressmen were elected, their terms, gerrymandering, Congressional committees and subcommittees, and other subjects that Charles found thoroughly boring. He’d just met their Congressman a few weeks earlier when his mother had him over to the house for dinner, and Charles found him to be a sweaty, leering, pompous ass. But he liked listening to Mr. Lehnsherr talk, so it wasn’t so bad.

The period ended with Mr. Lehnsherr assigning them an essay as a homework assignment. Most of the students grumbled and marched out of the room in a huff, but Charles thought that might have been his plan: it cleared the other kids out of the room quickly, leaving just the two of them.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, but Charles didn’t stay to hear the rest of it.

He just called over his shoulder as he left the classroom, “This afternoon? Same time, same place?”

“Yeah, okay, but Charles…”

Charles was already out the door, on his way to his next class.

‘Same time, same place’ meant the Phys. Ed. storage locker around 4:30pm, and Mr. Lehnsherr was already there when Charles arrived, sitting on a basketball and holding out an ice pack.

Charles took it from him grudgingly and sat down on a basketball beside him. “This isn’t very sexy,” he said as he applied it to his bruised cheekbone.

“What happened? Who hit you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles told him. “It’s not worth getting the school involved. You did your duty asking if I was okay like all the other teachers. I don’t need you running to Howlett just because I have a black eye.”

Mr. Lehnsherr looked hurt. “Charles, I’m not—I’m not asking as your teacher!” He scooted his basketball a little bit closer. “Please tell me. Who hit you?”

Maybe Charles was fooling himself, thinking that Lehnsherr actually looked concerned, but he gave in and told him the truth: “My mother’s ex-secretary’s new boyfriend. It’s a long story.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not going to do anything about it. I’ll probably never see him again. It’s over.”

Mr. Lehnsherr took the ice pack out of his hand and gently turned Charles’ face to get a better look. “I was going to go to Howlett,” he admitted, touching Charles’ cheek, causing him to hiss in pain. “I was afraid you would say it was your mother’s boyfriend. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited to ask you before I went to him, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“No, this isn’t anything to go to Howlett about. And even if it was a family issue, I’m almost eighteen. It’s really not worth the trouble.”

“Yes, it is!” Lehnsherr snapped. “Stop acting like I’m making a big deal out of nothing. I’m worried about you, Charles. I don’t want to see you hurt like this.”

Charles didn’t argue. Instead he put the ice pack back on his face for a few more minutes. It was nice, actually, just sitting there, with Mr. Lehnsherr at his side. It was sort of comforting.

“Did I tell you I decided to live in university housing?” he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “Should be fun.”

“I still think you should get an apartment if you can,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. “You could move out sooner and you wouldn’t have to go back to your mother’s house during school breaks.”

Charles shrugged. “If I get stuck with a psycho roommate, then maybe I will.”

“Do you know what you’re going to study?” asked Mr. Lehnsherr.

“I marked myself down as a physics major, but I might change it to biology.”

“Not poli-sci?” Mr. Lehnsherr smirked: by then he had figured out that he was the only reason Charles enjoyed his class.

“No,” Charles laughed. “I don’t see myself with a future in politics. There’s already too much in my past that could be used in a smear campaign.”

Charles expected Mr. Lehnsherr to laugh, too, but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “When I was younger,” he said, “I thought I was going to be the first Jewish President of the United States. Then I realized that I was gay, too, and that probably wouldn’t help my campaign.”

“What we’re doing here probably isn’t helping your campaign, either,” Charles said. “Or your teaching career, for that matter.”

“Trust me, I’m not that worried about my teaching career. Even if they don’t find out about us, if they hire me back for next year, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Why do you say that? You’re a great teacher. The students like you.” He nudged him a little. “And the girls all have crushes on you.”

Mr. Lehnsherr shrugged. “Sometimes I think I should just up and move to Washington and see what I can find there. Maybe I could get a job with a lobbying group or something. Or with a newspaper.”

Charles took the ice pack off of his cheek and set it down on the floor. “If you could do anything, anything at all, what would you want to do?”

“First Gay Jewish President of the United States, obviously!” he laughed, then thought for a moment and changed his mind. “I’d like to be part of the White House press corps. Represent the Fourth Estate. Ask the tough questions. Hang out with Helen Thomas.” He shrugged again. “That’s a pipe dream, though.”

It didn’t seem like such a pipe dream to Charles. He could imagine himself turning on the TV years later and seeing Mr. Lehnsherr standing in front of the White House with a microphone, asking the President some taboo question about the latest scandal. But instead of looking inspired, Mr. Lehnsherr just looked pensive and stared at his shoes. Charles kissed him on the cheek, and Mr. Lehnsherr blushed.

“What about you?” asked Mr. Lehnsherr. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Charles. “Something in the sciences. I’d like to win a Nobel Prize someday.”

“You could, you know,” he said. “You’re smart enough. I think someday you will.”

This time Charles blushed.

They sat there for a while, side by side. They didn’t speak, and they were barely touching, but it still made Charles’ heart beat a little faster. He liked Mr. Lehnsherr, and he thought Mr. Lehnsherr might have liked him, too.


	13. BAMF!Moira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/5c92fd5df59709af8ea6939fb2307441/tumblr_mkym7bEMop1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

They spent their last few days before the start of the school year at their summer home in Cape Cod, lounging on the beach and enjoying the sunshine. The weather was perfect, the food was delicious, the kids got along, not a single word was spoken about Remy, Erik’s relationship with Charles was on some kind of upswing that Erik could not explain but certainly was not complaining about – all in all Erik was about to start the new school year feeling like a million bucks.

Then all hell broke loose.

While they were in Cape Cod, just days before the school year was to begin, Howlett announced that he was resigning as principal and moving back to Canada. His mother had had a stroke and he wanted to be there to take care of her, he said, which Erik could understand. Even so, Erik hated to see him go; he’d been working for Howlett for sixteen years, and though they’d butted heads on more than one occasion, for the most part they respected each other and worked together well.

More than that, Erik felt that the devil he knew was preferable to the devil he didn’t. Howlett was a moody, stubborn pain in Erik’s ass, but at least Erik knew what to expect from him. With the new principal he would have to start from scratch. The school board had been forced to find a replacement on a moment’s notice, and apparently they’d done the whole deal while Erik was building sandcastles and applying sunscreen to Charles’ back. He didn’t even know the new principal’s name, but he – or she – was going to be starting the new year right of the bat with a 6:30am introductory faculty meeting on the very first day of school. Already Erik was not pleased.

He entered the school at 6:25, and before the door had even closed behind him, Emma was rushing over to him asking, “Have you met the new principal yet?”

Erik glared at her over the top of his sunglasses. “Hello to you, too. Good summer?”

“Excellent.” She looked him up and down. “Nice tan. Really sets off the gray hair.”

“Very funny.”

“Hurry up,” said Emma. “The meeting starts in four minutes.”

He’d intended to arrive early to give himself time to have a cup of coffee and mentally prepare himself to kiss some ass, but no such luck: Emma was rushing into the classroom where the faculty had already gathered, her high heels clacking frantically on the linoleum floor. There was no time to settle in. Erik would just have to suck it up and go join the rest of them.

Erik was the last one to arrive, aside from the new principal, who was apparently looking to make a big entrance. He slid into the empty desk in front of Azazel.

“Welcome back,” said Azazel. “Fashionably late?”

Erik turned in his chair to face him. “Me? Or the new principal? If he’s going to call a 6:30 meeting and then stroll in five minutes late, he should at least bring us some coffee.”

“Eyes front, Mr. Lehnsherr!”

Erik spun around in his seat so fast he banged his knee on the desk. The new principal was standing at the front of the classroom, arms crossed over her chest, wearing a severe pantsuit and a self satisfied smirk.

“Moira Kinross?”

“Hello, everyone,” she said. “I’m Dr. MacTaggart, and I will be your new principal.”

 

**

 

“Welcome to A.P. United States Government and Politics,” Erik said, writing his name on the blackboard. “My name is Mr. Lehnsherr, but of course you know that, because this is an advanced course, and you were only admitted to this class if I recommended you. So you know me, I know you, and hopefully that means that we can just jump right in.”

He looked around the classroom. There were at least three budding policy wonks in this group and two kids that Erik could just sense would turn out to be lawyers in a few years. All in all, he suspected he’d gotten a good bunch of kids this year, and he had a feeling he had some lively class discussions in his future. This could be fun, he thought.

“Up on the table here,” he continued, “you’ll see we have a big stack of textbooks and a big stack of newspapers. Studying politics is not like studying history. Politics is happening now. So in addition to the textbook, you’re also going to be required to read the newspaper. And before you go complaining and coming up with excuses, I’ve already made sure that we have enough subscriptions to the New York Times for each and every one of you. So as soon as you walk in the door in the morning, you’re going to come up here and pick up your newspaper. You’re not going to be required to read the whole thing every day – just the front page, so don’t start complaining about that either.”

Just as Erik was about to start handing out the syllabus, the classroom phone rang. Erik had a feeling he knew who would be on the other end of the line. “So everyone grab a book and a paper,” he called over his shoulder as he went to answer the phone.

It was the school’s secretary. “Dr. MacTaggart would like to meet with you in her office next period.” Before he could claim he was busy, she added, “She knows it’s your free period.”

“All right, I’ll be there,” he said, and hung up the phone.

The rest of the class flew by: he had been right about this being a fun group – already they were arguing about the headline in the Times and the discussion became so heated that the bell actually startled him. They even sounded excited about his offer of extra credit for successfully completing the crossword puzzle. At the very least he went down to meet Moira feeling confident in his abilities as a teacher.

The office door was cracked open, but he knocked anyway.

“Come in.”

Erik opened the door and found her already seated behind the desk, looking hard at work. It was odd seeing the office he’d spent so much time in so completely transformed, and so rapidly. She’d rearranged the furniture, and instead of photos of Howlett and Herc on the desk, there was a potted orchid and a gold-plated pen.

“You can shut the door,” she said, taking off her glasses and putting aside her papers. “Have a seat.”

“This is a surprise,” Erik said as he sat down. “Congratulations, Dr. MacTaggart.”

“Thank you. And you can call me Moira.”  

“It’s good to see you. You seem to be doing well for yourself. And you look great.”

She did. She also looked like a surgeon who was about to cut someone’s heart out of their chest, he thought, but she was dressed well and her hair looked nice.

“Thank you,” she said again, not smiling. “So do you. The years have been kind to you.”

“They have indeed.”

Moira said nothing. She was studying him. He suddenly became self-conscious: the last time she saw him, he was twenty-seven years old.

“So,” Erik said, attempting to make small talk, “what school were you at before this?”

“How long have you been teaching here, Mr. Lehnsherr?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“Sixteen years. And please, call me Erik.”

“That’s a long time. Frankly, I was surprised to see that you’re still on the faculty here.”

“Did you think I was destined for bigger and better things?” he smirked.

“No, I thought you would be fired for sleeping with your students.”

He’d been expecting that, but it still stung. Not that he was going to let her see that, though. He could tell that she was hoping for an explosive reaction, so instead, Erik just crossed one leg over the other and casually corrected her: “Student.”

“Excuse me?”

“Student. Singular. Charles was the only student I ever slept with.”

Moira was unimpressed. She folded her hands together on the desk and leaned forward. “And what’s to stop you from doing it again?”

She was obviously trying to intimidate him, but Erik refused to give her the satisfaction. He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I’m old now,” he said, going for humble. “Come on, my hair is more than half gray. There isn’t a seventeen-year-old in the world who would sleep with an old guy like me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” said Moira. Erik was almost flattered before she continued, “Sexual harassment is about power, and you’re in a position of authority.”

Erik’s eyebrows shot sky high. “Are you accusing me of sexual harassment?”

“No. That would have been Principal Howlett’s responsibility. Since you’re still here, I assume he never found out.”

“Oh, he knew,” Erik told her. That Howlett only found out the previous winter was irrelevant, Erik thought. “In fact, Charles and I had dinner with him just a few weeks ago.”

That got her attention. “You’re still in touch with Charles?” she asked, sounding more surprised than she probably intended.

Erik held up his left hand, showing her his ring. “We just had our ninth anniversary. We have two kids.” He tried not to sound too smug about ruining Moira’s power play, but, well, it was a nice feeling.

Moira very carefully betrayed nothing. She just stared at him as though she didn’t dare move her face until she had decided how to react.

“Really,” she said flatly.

“Really.”

After a moment, Moira just continued on as if that made no difference whatsoever. “And does the rest of the faculty know that you had an affair with a student?” she asked.

“Well, Emma Frost knows, and she can talk, so I assume at least some of them know.”

“And what about the parents?” Moira continued. “Do you think your students’ parents would be happy to hear that you had an ongoing affair with one of your students?”

With that, Erik could no longer maintain his aloof, casual demeanor, and he felt his expression harden. “I don’t see how something that happened more than fifteen years ago is at all relevant to my students today.”

“Of course it’s relevant,” said Moira. “You are a tenured teacher here, and a pretty popular one at that. As a parent, I would want to know who was teaching my son.”

Erik clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “They might also want to know if the school principal is the type of person who would keep her mouth shut about an affair if it meant getting ahead. I bet being valedictorian looked pretty good on your transcript. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you mentioned it in your job interview when you were applying here.”

Again Moira went stone-faced.

“Did you think I didn’t know about the deal you made with Charles?” he asked.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Are you?” asked Erik. “What is the point here, Moira? What are you getting at?”

For the first time since Erik stepped into her office, Moira appeared flustered. “My point is that I don’t want you to think that I am going to turn a blind eye to illicit behavior. I know you, Mr. Lehnsherr. I know that you’re capable of sleeping with your students and I know you’ve done it before, and while it’s very nice to hear that you and Charles have apparently lived happily ever after, I’m no fool. People don’t often change their ways.”

“I haven’t changed my ways! I’m still sleeping with Charles!”

“Do not interrupt me!” Moira snapped, then took a moment to collect herself. “I don’t care how long you’ve been here and I don’t care how popular you are as a teacher. I have a zero tolerance policy towards sexual relationships between students and faculty, and I will not hesitate to enforce it.”

“Fine. Won’t affect me.”

“It better not,” she said.

Fed up, Erik stood from his seat. “Are we finished here or is there anything else you’d like to threaten me about?”

“No, that will be all. Tell Charles I said hello.”

Erik did not respond; instead he marched out of the office, head held high, and for the first time in many years, Erik wondered if his days as a teacher were numbered.


	14. Azazel and Emma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My Bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/8100d4828a148816fb8dffb8b222740c/tumblr_ml2ev5UwX01s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I finally got a bingo!

Emma stood right next to the door, but she still couldn’t hear much of anything. Howlett was a yeller: very convenient. MacTaggart must have been whispering for all Emma could hear of their conversation. At least the administrative offices were carpeted – she didn’t have to take her heels off to get close without being heard. Unfortunately that silence seemed to go both ways – Emma couldn’t hear a goddamn word. After a moment’s hesitation, she gently put her ear to the wall.

“What are you doing?” asked Azazel, startling her enough that she nearly leaped out of her skin. She hated when he popped up out of nowhere like that.

Emma glared at him and hissed, “I’m eavesdropping. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Don’t you have a class?”

“I gave them a pop quiz so I would have time to come down here.”

“It’s the first day of school!” If Emma didn’t know Azazel as well as she did, she might have thought he didn’t approve, but he was just as nosy as she was and he’d gone to much greater lengths to get some good gossip.

“I told them it was a ‘skills assessment’ so I could gauge their proficiency,” she said.

Azazel was impressed – a fact he only barely betrayed with a slight quirk of his eyebrow and a hint of a smirk. “Who’s in there?” he asked, tipping his head toward the office door.

“MacTaggart is confronting you-know-who about you-know-what.”

Azazel frowned. “She’s confronting Alison about parking in her space?”

“No!” Emma whispered. “She’s confronting Lehnsherr about his husband. You know she was a student here around the same time as him.”

“Really?” That caught Azazel’s attention. Glancing around the corner to be sure that no one was coming, he took a plastic cup from the water cooler and handed it to Emma. “Here, use this.”

“Thanks.” Emma turned the cup to the wall and put her ear against the bottom of it. Much better: she could almost sort of hear what they were saying.

Azazel stood beside Emma and put a cup to the wall as well. “Can you hear anything?” he whispered.

“Not really.”

A moment passed in silence, and then Azazel laughed.

“What?” asked Emma.

“He just called you a gossip.”

“I didn’t hear that!”

Another minute, and Emma still didn’t hear anything. It was a bit like when she was a kid and her grandmother told her she could hear the ocean in a seashell. The ocean was boring. “How come you can hear and I can’t?” she whined.

“Maybe you should get your hearing checked,” said Azazel. A sneaky grin crossed his face. “He just told her, ‘I’m still sleeping with Charles!’”

Emma rolled her eyes. “He’s sleeping with his husband. Big scoop, Brokaw – I could have told you that.”

Just as Emma was about to give up anyway, Azazel took two big steps away from the wall. “He’s leaving,” he whispered. “Act natural.”

There weren’t too many ways for them to ‘act natural’: Emma pretended to be looking for something and Azazel turned back to the water cooler for a drink.

A minute later the door swung open and Lehnsherr marched out of the office. He took one look at Emma and Azazel standing there and shook his head. “For God’s sake,” he muttered. “Why don’t you just put a nanny cam in the office?”

As he walked away in a huff, Azazel whispered to Emma, “That’s not a bad idea.”

Emma nodded. “I knew I always liked him.”


	15. Kidfic: Lorna, Wanda and Pietro, Anya, and David

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Bingo!](http://24.media.tumblr.com/b7b25515fffdf7fc066c9840d5659dc2/tumblr_ml7q6pPA4E1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

“What are you wearing?”

Erik made some sort of grumbling, huffing noise into the phone, and then it sounded like he dropped it. “Charles, it’s 1:00 in the morning,” he said when he finally recovered.

“No shirt, then. Are you wearing pajama pants or just your boxers?”

Again with the grumbling and rustling. It wasn’t that Charles had forgotten about the time difference, but after a beer or five, it just didn’t seem very important.

“I’m wearing my eyelids over my eyeballs. I’m sleeping, Charles.”

Charles kicked his shoes off and sat down on the hotel bed. “Mmm, yes. Say my name again.”

“Charles,” Erik said, though it came across more annoyed than sexy. That was okay – Charles could work with that. “You said 10:00 for phone sex. 10:00 my time. I called you three times and you didn’t answer.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Charles said. “The meeting went longer than I expected and then I got roped into going out afterwards.” He sat back against the headboard and unbuttoned his pants. “But you’re awake now.”

“No, I’m not. I’m asleep. Good night, Charles.”

Erik hung up.

Oh well. He’d forgotten to get the lotion out of the bathroom anyway.

 

*

 

Forty-five minutes later, Charles’ phone rang. By that time, he’d changed out of his suit, gone to the vending machine for snacks, opened up his schoolwork, closed his schoolwork, turned on the TV, and gotten completely wrapped up in some disgusting show about hoarders. It was absolutely glorious.

This was the fourth night of his trip to the California office, and though he would never admit it to Erik, having an entire hotel room to himself was just about the most wonderful thing Charles could imagine. He could walk around naked. He could watch filthy television. He could eat vending machine candy openly. There were no crying babies. No children wanting to be entertained. No Erik hollering and carrying on about every little thing. On the first night, Charles had looked around the empty hotel room and announced, “COCKSUCKING MOTHERFUCKING ASSFACE! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! CUNT!” just because he could, because Marie and Kurt were three thousand miles away and he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about setting a bad example. It felt good.

Charles missed them, of course. He found himself thinking about them constantly and he knew that once he was home he would be happy to be back, but for the moment, sitting half naked watching disgusting TV and eating junk food was complete and total bliss. And he certainly wasn’t about to turn down phone sex, so he turned the TV off, grabbed the lotion from the bathroom, and ran to his cell phone.

“Hello?”

“I can’t sleep,” said Erik. “You woke me up and now I can’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Charles sat back down on the bed, squirting a bit of lotion into his hand. “Do you still want to…?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep all week,” Erik mumbled through a yawn. “I took a sleeping pill tonight and it knocked me right out, but now I can’t get back to sleep again, and I feel kind of nauseous. I feel kind of… blurry. I don’t know, I just feel weird.”

That was a no. With a small sigh, Charles rubbed the lotion onto his hands and arms, and relaxed back against the headboard. “What did you take?” Charles asked.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled sleepily. “Blue pill. My mom gave it to me. Prescription.”

“You shouldn’t take other people’s prescriptions – they’re prescribed for a reason.”

“I know, I know. But I needed to sleep.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Charles said. “It will wear off by morning. You should drink some water.”

“I did.” The line went quiet for a moment, and Charles wondered if Erik had drifted off after all. Then Erik asked, “How’s your trip going?”

“Fine,” said Charles. “Do you want me to tell you about what we’ve been working on? That might put you to sleep.”

“No, thank you.”

“What about you? What’s going on there?” Charles asked. “What have I been missing?” They hadn’t spoken much at all since Charles had been away on his business trip – just the occasional text message and quick five-minute hellos when they could catch each other. Hence the phone sex date.

Erik yawned again. “Not much. Work is boring. Marie’s teacher wants to have a spelling bee.”

“That’s cute,” said Charles, but Erik scoffed.

“How many words do first graders know? Cat, dog, jump, play…”

Charles smiled. “Maybe it’s time you start teaching her the important words.”

“I have been: Legislature, sovereignty, federalism, _habeas corpus_ …”

“Yes, I’m sure all of those will come up in Marie’s first grade spelling bee,” Charles laughed.

“Kurt is very taken with a stuffed dinosaur my mother gave him,” Erik went on. “He’s been marching around the house with it, making roaring sounds. He had me laughing this morning, though. And he misses you. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” said Charles.

“Oh, and I finally met the neighbors yesterday. The ones in the red house next door.”

“How was that?” Charles asked, then got up to fetch the remainder of the vending machine candy.

“What a bunch of lunatics,” said Erik. “Do you know how many kids they have?”

Charles opened the bag of M&Ms. “How many?”

“Five. Five kids, and they’re completely out of control. The one boy couldn’t have been much older than Marie, and they were letting him run all over the neighborhood, completely unsupervised. I said hello to two of the other kids, and the one girl told me she was a witch, and then the other boy gave me four different names – who knows what his name actually is. Little liars is what I think. And then there was an older girl – she had green hair! What kind of parents let their kid go out in the world with green hair? I would never let Marie dye her hair green, no way.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Charles said, tossing a few M&Ms in his mouth.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Erik said, now beginning to get riled up. “The oldest daughter was a goth. A goth! I thought goth went out of style a decade ago!”

“Apparently not,” said Charles. “I’ve met the parents, though – they’re nice.”

“Nice? You think they’re nice?” Erik was shouting now – or as close as he could get without waking Kurt and Marie. “That guy Max is a complete maniac. What a wack-job! I told him I taught government and politics and he started in with the most absurd, pseudo-anarchist, crack-pot conspiracy theories I have ever –” Charles could just see him throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t even talk about it!” Erik said. “My blood pressure is going up just thinking about it.”

Charles had to bite his cheeks to stop himself from laughing when he then told Erik, “I don’t know – I thought he was kind of sexy.”

_“Sexy?!”_

“Yeah, you know – tall, broad shoulders, square jaw…” Erik grumbled something that Charles couldn’t quite make out, and he had a feeling it was better that he didn’t hear it. Charles ignored it and said, “The wife is nice, though. You have to agree with me there.”

Erik sighed. “Yes, all right. I liked her. She was very sweet, and she seemed smart. I don’t know what she’s doing with him, though.”

“Me, either.”

After a quiet moment, Erik grumbled, “You don’t really think he’s sexy, do you?” When Charles didn’t immediately respond (he didn’t think he could answer without laughing), Erik said, “I don’t think you do. I think you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

“Well, it’s not the rise I was hoping to get out of you tonight, but it’ll do.”

“Mmhmm. That’s what I thought.” Then the tenor of Erik’s voice changed. “Well, I’m definitely awake now, if you’re still up for it.”

Charles put the bag of M&Ms aside and returned to the bed. “Is that so?”

“I am awake and shirtless, and I’m reaching into my boxers.”

Following Erik’s lead, Charles sat up against the headboard of the hotel bed and took his own boxers off. He started lazily stroking himself with a bit of the lotion, enjoying the knowledge that Erik was doing the same. “Did that make you jealous?” Charles asked after a minute. “When I said I thought our neighbor was sexy?”

“It made me wish you were here,” said Erik. “So I could make you forget all about him.”

“And how would you do that?”

“Well, I’d start by dragging you up to our bedroom, then pushing you back onto our bed. Then I’d straddle you, so you’re pinned beneath me.”

Charles tried to imagine the weight of Erik’s hips on top of his, Erik’s thighs holding him in place. “I’d hold onto you by your hips,” Charles said.

“No, I would tear your clothes off of you, then tie your wrists to the headboard with your tie, and throw the rest across the room. Then, once you're naked and tied down, then I'd slowly take my own clothes off while you watch.”

That worked, too.

“Then I'd climb back on top of you, biting at your neck and your shoulders, gripping at your arms,” Erik continued. "I would work my way down to your nipples. Pink and hard. I wish you were here, Charles, I can almost taste them.”

Charles added a bit more lotion to his hand, then picked up the pace. He used his shoulder to hold the phone so that he could use his other hand to pinch at his nipple. He could hear rustling on Erik’s end, then heard him pumping, so sloppy and wet with lube that Charles could hear every stroke.

“I would climb off of you, then,” Erik said heavily, a couple of minutes later.

“No, why?” Charles asked. “I liked that.”

“So that I could get your cock in my mouth.”

Charles twitched at the image. “Yes, okay, that’s good,” he said.

“I’d suck you until you were –” A small whimper escaped Erik’s lips. “Until you were so hard you were pulsing, until I could see every muscle in your body aching for release.”

In his hotel room across the country, Charles wasn’t quite there yet. “Then you would get the lube out,” he said, “so you could start to open yourself up. I want you back on top of me. I want you to fuck yourself on me, ride me, Erik.”

“Yes, I’d climb back on top of you and, hhff. I’d slowly sink down onto you until you’re completely inside me, and I’d – ohhh.” Erik let the narrative fall by the wayside – all Charles could hear from the other end of the line was a frantic, rhythmic, wet sound and Erik’s uneven breathing, interspersed with Erik calling his name a few times. Then, after a few minutes, Erik let out a choked cry.

Charles still had his cock in his hand. “Erik,” he said, stroking harder now. “God, I miss you. This is what it’s going to be when I get home. I want you to come all over my belly. I need to be inside you again. Tell me you want me inside of you.”

Charles waited for Erik to respond, but there was no answer.

“Say it, Erik. I want to hear you say it again.”

No response.

“Erik?”

A deep, guttural snore echoed through the phone. Erik had finally fallen back to sleep.


	16. Azazel and Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b096820559c149ffeeba88e07e4f43ee/tumblr_mlkjtgYLKz1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

The second floor was almost silent as Azazel and Janos walked down the hallway towards the stairwell, ready to leave for the day. Every door was closed, the lights were all off, and not a single person was left in the building, except one: the door to Erik’s classroom was open, and they could hear him inside, shuffling papers and humming to himself.

“Should we ask him if he wants to come?” Azazel asked Janos under his breath.

Janos peeked inside Erik’s classroom – it was nearly 4:30, and Erik was still sitting at his desk with a stack of work in front of him and a pair of white earbuds in his ears. He didn’t notice them standing in his doorway watching him.

“We may as well,” said Janos, turning back to Azazel. “He’s going to say no anyway.”

In the nearly four years since he’d started teaching at this school, Janos could count on one hand the number of times he and Erik had hung out. In theory they were friends: they ate lunch together, they tended to stick together during school functions, and they even shared a few long-running jokes, mainly about the time they’d accidentally discovered Principal Howlett’s weakness for mani/pedis. But once they left the school grounds, if Janos went left, Erik went right.

Janos wasn’t insulted by it. Erik was a private person – Janos could understand that. Erik kept a very thick line drawn between his work life and his personal life, and Janos (unlike, say, Azazel and Emma) did not intend to cross it. But Janos didn't see the harm in going out for a drink after work from time to time.

Janos knocked on Erik’s classroom door, visibly startling him. “Hey, Azazel and I are going to the pub. You want to come?”

Erik pulled the earbuds out of his ears. “When?” he asked.

“Right now.”

Azazel arched an eyebrow and added, “On a school night. Very scandalous.”

Normally this would be when Erik would shake his head and tell them he would pass. This time, however, Erik bit his bottom lip and frowned at the tests in front of him, then fiddled with the cell phone that was sitting on the desk beside him.

“Yeah, what the hell,” he said.

Janos and Azazel exchanged a surprised glance. “Really?” asked Janos.

“Yeah, sure. One drink won’t kill me.” Erik smiled. He _smiled._ Lehnsherr was actually smiling as he put his work away and shrugged on his leather jacket. “Twinkle-Toes isn’t coming, is he?” he asked.

“No,” said Azazel. “No administrators allowed.”

Erik shouldered his bag, then grabbed his phone from his desk and started typing something into it – texting someone, Janos assumed. “You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you over there,” he said.

“All right. See you there,” said Azazel, and with another surprised glance, Azazel and Janos headed for the pub.

 

*

 

Janos and Azazel were semi-regulars at the pub in the next town. They couldn’t go there too often, considering it was only about five miles from the high school. They didn’t need to pick up a reputation as barflies in a place where they could easily run into students’ parents or other faculty members or, heaven forbid, members of the school board. They were, however, there often enough that the bartender would put South American football matches on the TV for them, even though no one else in the bar had any interest in watching.

Erik apparently didn’t have any interest in watching either. Janos and Azazel were tearing their hair out and screaming at the television, but Erik just sipped a beer and traded off between staring blankly at the TV and tapping away at his phone. Janos was just glad that he was sitting between Azazel and Erik, or Azazel would have spent the entire match trying to peek at Erik’s texts.

By the third commercial break, Azazel could no longer contain his curiosity. “Who are you texting?”

Erik’s face went from quietly amused to neutral in under a second. He put his phone down on the bar and picked up his beer instead. “Just a friend of mine,” he said.

Boyfriend. They all knew he was gay, or assumed it, anyway. And Erik knew that they knew, but he refused to speak about it, at least not directly. That was part of the big thick line between work and personal, the line that Janos did his best to respect, the line that drove Emma and Azazel absolutely up the wall with curiosity.

“Were you supposed to see him tonight?” asked Azazel.

Erik shook his head. “No, he has a class on Wednesday nights.”

A morsel of information. Janos could almost feel Azazel vibrating with nosiness.

“He’s a student?” Azazel asked.

“At Columbia. Biology.”

That alone was three words more than Erik had ever offered about his “friend” before. The commercial break ended, though, and Azazel was back to watching the TV – but not without hesitation. He was clearly torn trying to decide which was more interesting: the match or the tiny bits of information that half a beer was pulling out of Erik.

Fortunately for Erik, the match started to pick up, and when Argentina scored, all thoughts of Erik and his friend were forgotten. At least until the cheering died down and Azazel bought them another round of beers, and a young blond woman sidled up to the bar next to Erik.

Azazel perked up. “Hi,” he said, leaning over the bar to get a better look. “Can we buy you a drink?”

But the girl ignored him in favor of Erik. “Hey,” she said to him.

“Hey.”

“My friend over there thinks you’re hot.” The friend she pointed to was absolutely luscious. Thick, shiny, wavy brown hair, deep red lipstick, with the best boobs Janos had ever seen – and she was dressed like she knew it. She looked like a telenovela villain, and Janos would have happily let her ruin his life.

Erik turned, and gave the friend only half a glance.

“She’s very pretty,” Erik told the girl. “But I’m taken. Sorry.”

The girl’s expression drooped. “You have a girlfriend?”

“I’m spoken for,” said Erik.

The girl quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s too bad,” she said, and walked away.

Janos couldn’t stop himself from gawping at him, and neither could Azazel.

“What?” Erik shrugged. “If you think they’re so hot, why don’t you go talk to them?”

Azazel hesitated for only a second before picking up his beer and walking over to the girls, who were hovering over near the dartboard in the corner.

Janos resumed watching the game. Erik’s phone vibrated on the bar – another text.

It was just the two of them. Azazel was across the room, attempting to flirt with women who were, they all knew, way out of his league. They were off school property, in another zip code. Erik seemed to be in a good, open mood. Janos decided to ask. They were friends, after all, weren’t they?

“Is it serious?” he asked. “Between you and… the person you’re ‘taken’ with?”

Erik smiled to himself a little and fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. Too soon to say, probably.”

“You’ve seemed happy lately.”

Now Erik outright grinned. “I am happy.”

There were other things Janos wanted to say, wanted to ask, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to let Erik know that he supported him, and considered him a friend. He wanted to ask all the normal things you ask when someone you know is seeing someone new – what’s his name, how did you meet, how long have you been seeing each other (Janos guessed about six months) – but Erik was so cagey about these things that Janos didn’t know how to even make small talk about it without potentially upsetting him.

It didn’t matter, because Azazel returned before Janos could say anything more. “Got her number!” he said with an air of victory, and waved to the two girls as they left the bar.

“Let me see that.” Erik grabbed the napkin out of his hand, read it, and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked Azazel.

“This is the number to the bar. This bar. It’s printed right on the napkin, dummy.”

Janos took a look and sure enough, the girl had just written the exact same number that was already printed on the napkin. He couldn’t hold himself back from laughing.

“Aw dammit!” Azazel tore up the napkin as Erik and Janos giggled at him.

The football match resumed, but Janos could tell that Erik was getting antsy. He’d had two beers and nothing to eat (he wouldn’t eat any of the mozzarella sticks or fries that they’d ordered), and he had little to no interest in watching football.

“I gotta take a leak,” he said, and disappeared off to the bathroom.

A minute later, Erik’s phone vibrated. He’d left it on the bar.

Azazel glanced at Janos, then dove for it, but Janos pushed him away.

“What, are you going to read his texts?” said Janos.

“I just want to see!”

Janos pushed the phone further away. “See what?”

“Come on!” Azazel scrambled for the phone, but Janos fought him off. “Gimme it!”

“Knock it off!”

But it was no use – Azazel’s arms were longer than his, and Janos couldn’t keep it away. “Aha!” Azazel snatched the phone out of Janos’ hand, peeked at the screen, and put it back down on the bar with a satisfied smirk on his face. “I got a name,” he said.

Erik stepped out of the men’s room not half a second later, none the wiser. He would never know that Azazel looked at his phone. “All right,” he said, taking his phone and jacket. “I’m heading out. See you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya,” said Azazel.

“Have a good night,” said Janos. “Glad you came out with us.”

“Yeah, this was fun,” Erik nodded. “Maybe we can do this again during baseball season.”

Janos and Azazel both made a face as Erik walked out the door.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Janos said when Erik had left. “What’s his name?”

“Charles.”

“Charles what?”

Azazel shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? He just has him in his phone as Charles.”

Janos just rolled his eyes and went back to his beer. “Was that really necessary? Just to get the guy’s first name?”

“Sure it was,” said Azazel. “Now Emma owes me fifty bucks.”


	17. Betrothed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/ac7636adfc0bdc3aebeec84e2979f3a5/tumblr_mlmaqgQR3B1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Charles' least favorite part of his new job was that his schedule no longer coincided with Erik's. It used to be that he and Erik were on roughly the same calendar: Charles was in school, Erik was a teacher. They both had summers off, they both had weekends off. They both had long breaks around Christmas/New Year. It had been almost five months since Charles had put grad school on the back burner, since he’d taken Marie and Kurt back from his mother, and though he was proud of his decision and he’d do it all over again, he hated that he didn’t get to take Spring Break alongside Erik. Charles had to be up and getting ready for work at 7am, while Erik got to lay in bed playing with Marie all week.

“Do I really need to wear a suit?” Charles called from inside the closet.

Erik was tickling Marie so much that Charles was beginning to worry that she might wet the bed from laughing so hard. But he liked hearing her cackle like that. Only Erik seemed to make her laugh that way, like she might literally burst from laughing so hard. Charles was glad she was laughing again.

Erik stopped blowing raspberries into her belly long enough to reply, “You said they wear suits. If they wear suits, you should wear a suit. You should look like you’re one of them.”

Charles had been at the company for a few months now, and upper management was just starting to catch on to the fact that the new guy’s last name was Xavier. Today they’d invited him to a meeting that an entry-level biologist such as himself had no business attending, and though he knew he was only going because of his name, he still had to dress the part. Unfortunately, Charles only owned one suit, a very formal black suit that he’d had for three years and probably only worn twice. He did not look like he would blend in at a lunchtime corporate meeting. He looked like he was going to a funeral. Actually, come to think of it, Raven’s funeral was the last time he’d worn it. But Erik was probably right about wearing it, so he finished getting dressed and returned to the bedroom.

“No, don’t wear that,” said Erik.

Charles looked down at his outfit. “What? What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like a Bible salesman. Don’t you have any other shirts and ties?”

Charles sighed and turned back to the closet as Erik continued playing with Marie. He was just shuffling through his shirts in search of something presentable – something that didn’t have Kurt’s spit-up on it – when Marie let out another high-pitched squeal of laughter, and not for the first time that morning, Charles felt his heart swell.

They never did have that talk. Technically speaking, Charles never did officially get back together with Erik after they broke up. But Erik was there at his side from the beginning, at first just listening when Charles needed someone to talk to, lending an extra hand when Charles was too overwhelmed, offering a shoulder to cry on when Raven’s casket was lowered into the ground, and then again when Charles finally, a week after the funeral, dropped Kurt and Marie off at his mother’s house.

Then, when Charles started to realize that his mother wasn’t caring for them, when she was drunk all the time, mourning Raven with bourbon, when he started going over there at odd hours to check on them and would find them left alone, or left with the gardener, or when Marie would see him and immediately start crying that she wanted to go with him, Erik gave Charles the support and confidence he needed to take them back. When Charles kissed him, Erik kissed him back. Erik started spending the night again. Erik fell right back into Charles’ life, right where he should have been the whole time.

Charles found a green shirt that appeared to be stainless and only slightly wrinkled, so he changed into that, put on a tie, put his suit jacket back on, and stepped back out of the closet again.

Erik whispered in Marie’s ear, then Marie repeated through giggles, “Uncle Charley, your tie is ugly!”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Well, I only have two others and this is the only one that goes with green.”

“The purple shirt and the striped tie,” Erik said.

“I can’t find the purple shirt,” Charles whined, but went to look for it again. It was right there hanging in the closet after all.

Kurt started to cry as Charles was putting on the striped tie. “I’ll get him,” Erik said, and got out of bed. “You’ll get your shirt dirty, and I don’t have any here to lend you.”

After he’d taken the kids, Charles’ mother let him move from his one bedroom apartment, which she’d been renting to him at a reduced price in exchange for him acting as building manager, to a larger, two bedroom apartment in the same building. It was a huge gesture on her part – after all, that was $50,000 in foregone revenue that she could have earned in rent from real tenants, and she’d hired a real building manager, whose salary couldn’t be cheap. It was probably costing her $100,000 a year just to make sure they were comfortable. And they still weren’t comfortable. Even at twice the size of his previous apartment, it was still the Upper West Side, and the apartment was still tiny. There wasn’t enough room for all of them. Pretty soon, Charles would have to start thinking about moving. He didn’t know where to, though. It would have to be someplace where Erik could get to work easily – assuming Erik would still want to be around. Assuming he and Erik would stay together.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed beside Marie as he put his shoes on. “You like Erik, don’t you?” he asked her.

Marie nodded. “He’s funny,” she said.

“What about me? Am I funny?”

Marie smiled and buried her head in a pillow. Apparently she didn’t think he was funny.

Charles watched Erik set Kurt down in his playpen before returning to the bedroom. “Aren’t you going to be late?” he asked.

Charles looked at his watch. “Probably.” He found Marie under the covers and kissed the top of her head. “You’re going to be good for Erik today, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

That was about as good an answer as Charles was going to get, so he stood from the bed and walked over to where Erik was standing in the doorway. “Thank you again,” he said, suddenly nervous. “For watching them all week like this, I mean. I really appreciate it. I hate leaving them at daycare.”

“Of course,” said Erik. “It’s no problem. It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

At that, Charles felt a pang of guilt. “I was hoping you were here for me.” Maybe Erik thought that Charles was taking advantage of him – maybe he thought that Charles was only sleeping with him again in the hopes of free daycare. They really should have had that talk.

Erik smirked, just slightly. “You’re not so bad, either.”

Charles grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss – a move that always left a smile on Erik’s lips. Charles said goodbye to Kurt, then on his way out the door, Charles stopped, turned, and with his heart pounding in his chest, said to Erik, “Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t quite a question. “Just us. I’ll ask Mrs. Millstein from downstairs to watch them.”

Erik was standing in his shabby pajamas in their messy apartment, his hair askew. “Uh, sure,” he said. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Charles nodded with a smile, and left.

 

*

 

Charles didn’t get home from work until a quarter to seven, and he walked in the door panting like a dog, his legs wobbling beneath him, the small of his back moist with sweat.

“What the hell happened to you?” Erik asked. He was sitting on the floor beside Kurt, who was babbling nonsense and appeared to be very focused on putting all the blocks into the bucket.

“Elevator’s out,” Charles wheezed. “Who decided high rises were a good idea?” He collapsed into the sofa, then took a minute to catch his breath. “Where’s Marie?” he asked.

“She fell asleep in our bed about twenty minutes ago, so I just left her there. I should probably go wake her up or she won’t sleep tonight.”

Our bed. Charles felt a little bubble of confidence rise inside him.

“How was the meeting?” Erik asked.

Charles couldn’t give a fuck about the meeting. He had much more important things on his mind.

“It was fine,” he said. “Are you going to get dressed? Mrs. Millstein’s going to be here in about fifteen minutes.”

Erik looked at Charles like had two heads. “What? Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner, remember?”

“The elevator’s out. I’m not schlepping up thirty flights of stairs just to go to Via Parma.” They’d been going to Via Parma nearly once a week for the past two years. It wasn’t exactly a special outing.

“I’m sure the elevator will be working again by the time we get back. And I thought we might go somewhere else for once,” Charles said. “I made reservations at Pierre-Louis.”

Kurt squealed and dumped the bucket of blocks onto the floor.

 “Why?” Erik scowled. “I don’t want to eat French food. It’s all cream and butter.”

“You can ask for the cream and butter on the side. Come on, get dressed. Please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled and headed back into the bedroom.

He must have woken Marie like he said he would, because she wandered out a minute later, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.

“Hi, sweetie,” said Charles. “Did you have a good nap?”

She climbed onto the couch beside him. “Why are you all sweaty?” she asked.

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. It was Mrs. Millstein, and as soon as Marie laid eyes on her, she threw a fit.

“I don’t want you to go! Don’t leave me here! I want to go with you!” she sobbed, which then caused Kurt to start wailing along with her.

Erik stepped out of the bedroom with his shirt half-buttoned and untucked, his belt hanging open around his waist. “What’s the matter?” he asked, and Marie went running into his arms.

“Don’t leave me with her!” she cried.

Again Erik scowled at Charles. “Do we really need to go out tonight? This is stupid.”

“Yes! We are going out tonight!” Charles put his foot down. “They will be fine. They do this every time we leave them with someone else. They will get over it. Come on. Let’s go.” When Erik looked like he was hesitating again, Charles cut him off at the pass. “No,” he said. “Button your shirt. We’re going.”

Erik shook his head, but put Marie down and finished getting dressed, all the while assuring her that they were only going to be gone for a little while, and they would be right back, and nothing bad was going to happen to them, he promised.

They finally left the apartment twenty minutes later, after the crying had died down a little, but as soon as the door closed behind them, they could hear it starting all over. Poor Mrs. Millstein.

“We need to be able to leave them with a babysitter from time to time,” Charles reminded Erik.

Sighing, Erik said, “I know,” and they headed down the stairs.

One flight. Two. Three. Four. Five. Not even close yet, and Charles’ legs felt like they might give out. Those elevators had better be working by the time they got back, he thought. He never would have let the elevators go out for even a minute when he was in charge of the building. This new guy was a nitwit; he made a note to tell his mother that.

They got down to the sixth floor, and Erik stopped.

“What?” asked Charles.

“I forgot my wallet.”

“Dinner’s on me. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I need my wallet.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you’re going to get carded, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He should have known better than to comment on Erik’s age when he was already crabby. “I’m not worried about getting carded, Charles!” he snapped. “What if something happens? I need my wallet. I’m going back up. You can wait here if you want.” Erik turned to march back up the stairs, then paused again.

“What?” asked Charles.

“Do you hear that? Is that rain?”

Charles looked to the small window in the stairwell. It was covered in rain droplets. “Shit.”

Erik slumped his shoulders. “Charles, this is stupid. We can go to dinner another night.”

“No! We’re going out to dinner!”

“This is absurd! I’m not going! I’m going back upstairs, and I’m going to eat a sandwich and watch Nickelodeon with Marie. You can go eat snails without me.”

“No, you’re not!” Charles insisted. “We’re going!”

“Why?” Erik shouted. “What is the matter with you? What is the big deal?”

“I was going to ask you to marry me!” Charles shouted back. “That was the big deal! I was going to ask you to marry me!”

Of course right at that moment, one of their neighbors was on his way up the stairs, huffing and puffing and sweating even worse at the sixth floor than Charles had been when he’d reached the thirtieth. The poor man just awkwardly muttered, “Hey, how you doin’,” took a deep breath and trudged on up to the seventh. Charles could cry. He sat down miserably on the stairs, pouting almost as much as Marie had when he told her they were going out to dinner.

After a minute of heavy silence, Erik sat down beside him. “You know, I don’t care about going to a fancy restaurant,” he said quietly. “That doesn’t matter to me.”

“Well it does to me,” Charles sulked. “I thought it would be nice. I thought it would be special. Memorable. I wanted it to be a big deal.”

“Unlike when I asked you?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Another neighbor came trudging up the stairs, and Charles waited until she’d passed them before admitting, “I had a whole speech prepared.”

“I would have said yes even if you didn’t.”

Charles looked up from his shoes, and saw that Erik was blushing. “Really?” he asked. “You would have said yes?”

“Of course I would have,” Erik said. “You’re everything to me.”

Now Charles was blushing, too, and he looked down at his feet again.

“What was your speech about?” Erik asked.

Charles took a deep breath. “I was going to say that a few months ago, you told me I was too young to marry you, but I don’t feel too young anymore. And that even as everything else changes in my life, the one thing that doesn’t change is how much I love you, and how happy you make me, and that I think you feel the same way. Or at least I hope you do. And something about Marie and Kurt, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to say about them. I was hoping it would come to me in the moment. Something about how much they adore you. I think they love you more than me sometimes.” Charles paused. “You wouldn’t just be marrying me anymore. You’d get all three of us.”

“I know,” said Erik.

“Still yes?” asked Charles.

“Still yes.”

Another neighbor came up the stairs, a young spritely woman who looked as though she did this every day. She had a smile on her face, and Charles was just about to start resenting her for being in such good shape when someone yelled up from the bottom, “Elevators are working!” and the young woman said, “Halle-fucking-lujah!” and left the stairwell.

Erik turned back to Charles. “Do you still want to go out to dinner?”

Taking Erik’s hand in his, Charles looked him in the eye, swallowed the rising lump in his throat, and asked, “Erik, will you marry me?”

Erik grinned, his eyes shining. “Yes, I will.”

Charles grinned, too, and laughed. “I guess we can go out another night.”


	18. Kidfic: Kevin (Proteus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter refers to [Chapter 3: Moira/Sean](http://archiveofourown.org/works/717333/chapters/1351468) and directly follows [Chapter 13: BAMF!Moira](http://archiveofourown.org/works/717333/chapters/1408159).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delay in updates! Thank you so much to anyone who's still interested in reading this. I can't say how much I appreciate the support. Now that this chapter is out of the way, I'm hoping to complete the rest of the fic over the next couple of weeks. So thanks again, wish me luck, and the final seven chapters are on their way!
> 
> [My bingo card.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/8bda9988e864393ab7e87c0e7ecd1e05/tumblr_mnj1xvGD9m1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Charles had intended to leave work early, (and by “early,” he meant “on time,”) but the legal department had a bug up its butt about something or another, and he ended up being dragged into meeting after meeting after meeting of corporate tedium. He didn’t manage to leave the office until quarter to six – which was still a bit earlier than normal anyway.

It was the first day of the new school year for Erik and the kids, and Charles wanted to be home. Kurt and Marie were getting a little old to be making a big deal out of it, but Charles liked to be there to hear about their new teachers and new classmates, and to hear Erik sounding excited and upbeat about his new students. Besides, Erik always made something special and celebratory for dinner on the first day of school. One year they had barbecued dinosaur (which Charles suspected was actually beef, but he didn’t want to ruin the fun, and Erik would never tell). Charles was expecting to come home and find something absurd and delicious waiting for him.

Instead he pulled into the driveway and found… some kid. Standing there on the lawn.

“Uh, hello,” Charles said, stepping out of the car and taking off his sunglasses. The kid made no response. “Hello?” Charles said again.

“Hi,” the kid grunted.

Charles frowned to himself. “Are you a friend of Kurt’s?” he asked.

Before the boy answered, Kurt came bounding out of the house carrying a pair of remote-controlled cars he’d gotten for his tenth birthday a few months earlier. “Hi, Dad,” he said.

“Hi,” said Charles. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Kevin. He’s from school.”

“Nice to meet you, Kevin,” Charles said. “I’m Mr. Xavier.”

“Hi,” Kevin grunted again, and otherwise ignored him.

Strange kid, Charles thought, but he decided that having a friend over was good for Kurt, even if the friend was a little weird. “Kevin, will you be staying for dinner?” he asked.

“No, my dad’s coming to pick me up.”

“All right.” Charles stood and watched for a minute, but the boys were already absorbed in sending the cars speeding up and down the street, so Charles left them to it and went inside.

Besides being the first day of school, today was also the first day of Marie working for him, and he was curious to see how she’d done. Having her work for him in his home office after school was meant to be a punishment (for disobeying Erik about Remy) and a distraction (to keep her too busy to have time for Remy), but still Charles hoped she didn’t hate it too much. He’d worked for his mother when he was her age, and he was always glad to have had that experience. He hoped Marie would feel the same way.

Charles wasn’t expecting her to still be in his office, but he peeked in anyway and saw that the papers he’d left out for her to file were no longer stacked haphazardly on the floor. He smiled to himself. Very good.

Making sure he had cash in his wallet, Charles headed into the house to talk to her and pay her for the day – he intended to pay her for her work, whether it was a punishment or not – but on his way towards Marie’s room, Erik stopped him.

“I must have called you ten times today!” Erik stepped out of the kitchen with a giant chef’s knife in his hand, looking exasperated.

“Did you?” Charles pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sure enough, there were eleven missed calls from Erik and three voicemails. “I’m sorry – I was in meetings all day. How was school? Did you meet the new principal?”

Erik scowled at him.

“What’s the matter?” Charles asked. “What happened?”

Erik’s jaw clenched. “Moira. Kinross.”

It took Charles a moment to remember the name; it had been at least ten years since he’d last heard it. “Moira Kinross?” he asked.

“Moira Kinross,” Erik repeated. “A.K.A. Dr. MacTaggart, A.K.A. the new principal.”

Charles gaped at Erik for a minute. “Moira is the new principal?” A second thought occurred to him: “Moira has a doctorate?”

“Yeah, in education, so don’t be too impressed.” Erik glared at him in disbelief. “That’s the part that interests you? That she has a doctorate?”

Charles shrugged. “One more doctorate than I have.”

“Who cares what kind of degree she has? She’s going to fire me!” Erik shouted, waving his hands as though he’d forgotten the giant knife he was holding.

For both their sakes, Charles gently took the knife out of Erik’s hand, saying, “All right, all right,” set it down on the counter, and led Erik away from the kitchen.

Erik slumped down into the living room sofa and sat with his face in his hands. “Moira Kinross,” he mumbled again as Charles sat beside him and rubbed his back.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened? You were there! She caught us fooling around when you were a student. And now she’s been the principal for one day and she’s already looking for a reason to fire me.” He dropped his hands and looked up at Charles through heavy lashes, and said wearily, “Charles, she thinks I’m a pedophile.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t think that,” Charles sighed, still trying to process all this. He was hoping that Erik was overreacting, but he looked genuinely, utterly devastated. “Come on, lie down,” Charles told him, and Erik stretched out on the couch, laying his head in Charles’ lap. “Tell me what happened.”

“She called me into her office today, almost first thing in the morning, and accused me of having sex with students.”

Charles gently pushed Erik’s soft gray hair back from his forehead. “Darling, you did have sex with a student. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school.”

Erik pouted. “I knew you would throw that in my face.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me that I should have been fired years ago, and she said that she ‘knew what I was like’ and that she had a ‘zero tolerance policy’ and basically she’s just waiting to catch me with my pants down so she can fire me.”

Charles had to admit that sounded bad, but he also knew that Erik had a flair for the dramatic and a well-earned reputation for blowing small problems out of proportion. He refused to believe that this was bad as Erik was making it sound – it couldn’t be.

“So let me get this straight,” said Charles, working through the problem out loud. “She reminded you that she knew you’d had sex with me when I was your student and she warned you against doing it again? It sounds like a CYA measure.”

“A what?”

“CYA. Cover Your Ass. Maybe she was just trying to cover herself so she could say that she had a talk with you about it just in case it ever came up. She probably--”

Before Charles could go on, he was interrupted by his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. It was a text from his assistant:  _Did you get a chance to sign that contract before you left?_

 _No, legal still has it_ , he quickly replied.

“Charles!”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Charles, and put the phone back in his pocket. “My point is that she’s probably not out to fire you. She probably just felt she had to say something to you about it.”

“Well, she did a shitty job of it,” Erik mumbled. “How am I supposed to go to work every day with her there, watching me, thinking I’m some kind of pervert who’s just there to fuck teenagers? How am I supposed to work for someone like that?”

“You know perfectly well,” Charles said gently, “that if it was any teacher other than you, and any student other than me, she would be one hundred percent right.”

That didn’t seem to help.

“Charles, she thinks I’m a child molester! She was talking to me like she had Jeffrey Dahmer sitting in her office!”

Charles sighed and ran his fingers through the silvery streak at Erik’s temple. As much as Erik complained about going gray, this was the first time in years that he’d let his hair grow more than an inch, long enough now that it fell across his forehead, the silver brightening his steel blue eyes. Charles suspected that Erik liked his gray hair, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

It had been more than fifteen years since Moira had stumbled in on them fooling around together in Erik’s classroom. Erik’s hair had turned gray. His face was lined, and where he’d once had a thirty inch waist he now had a small belly, filled with ten years’ worth of children’s birthday parties and barbecued dinosaur. Charles himself was wearing a full beard lately, and spent most of his time in a suit, discussing EBITDA and margin, and he felt like he couldn’t be any farther from a victimized seventeen year old. And they were still together. And they were happy. Erik wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, student or otherwise. Surely if Moira – Dr. MacTaggart – could see them for who they really were, she would see how far off the mark she’d been.

“Why don’t I talk to her?” said Charles.

“No!” Erik looked up at him with horror in his eyes. “No way! You are not getting involved with this!”

“Then what are you going to do about it?” When Erik had no answer, Charles continued. “You’re going to have to deal with this somehow because you’re working for her, whether you like it or not. You can either learn to work with her and defend yourself, or…” Charles took a breath – he knew Erik wouldn’t like this suggestion, either. “You know, you don’t actually _have_ to teach, if you don’t want to.”

Erik’s expression changed to uncertainty. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you don’t want to work for Moira, if want to leave there, you can. I know you love your job, but it is just a job, after all. If you’re not happy there anymore, then maybe it’s time to be adventurous. You used to say that you wanted to be a journalist – maybe you can see if the local paper is hiring. See what else is out there. Whatever you do, I would support you one hundred percent.”

When Charles had brought this up in the past, Erik had snapped at him, saying that he wasn’t going to quit his job to sit around and eat bonbons just because they didn’t need his teacher’s salary anymore. But he didn’t this time. He just looked sort of thoughtful and sad.

“It’s something to think about,” Charles said. “It’s an option. And I’m going to speak to Moira either way. I grew up with her. We were friends since the second grade. It would be rude of me not to at least say hello, especially since she obviously knows that I know she’s back in town. If I don’t, she’ll think I’m avoiding her, and that would really look bad.”

“All right,” Erik said quietly. Charles kissed his forehead.

“What are we having for dinner tonight?” Charles asked.

“Breakfast. Bacon and eggs for you, maybe French toast, maybe some pancakes – I thought chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries sounded good.”

“That does sound good!” said Charles with a smile, and he kissed him again. “Don’t worry about Moira. It will be all right. I promise. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

 

==

 

They didn’t talk about it any more that night. A short while later, Kevin’s dad came to pick him up – he was a tall, imposing man named Joe who asked to meet Kurt’s mother, as if the air in the house that evening wasn’t uncomfortable enough, with Erik sulking about his confrontation with Moira, Marie pouting about having to work for Charles after school, and Charles worrying about all of the above. Only Kurt seemed to be having a good day that day. He apparently had a lot of fun racing the remote-controlled cars with Kevin and he scarfed down two helpings of the chocolate chip pancakes.

Charles decided to wait until Friday to speak to Moira. He wanted to give her a chance to settle in a bit, and to give Erik a chance to make peace with her on his own, but by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, it seemed that Erik hadn’t made any progress whatsoever.

 _I think she’s spying on me_ , Erik texted Charles.

Charles was actually pulling into the high school parking lot at that very moment. _I really doubt that,_ he texted back.

_She keeps popping in on me between classes acting like she’s trying to be friendly._

_What’s wrong with that?_

_I feel like she’s trying to catch me doing something wrong._

_You’re being paranoid_ , texted Charles. _I just got here. I’m going to go talk to her. I’ll see you afterwards._

 _Okay_ , Erik replied. _Please don’t embarrass me. And don’t say anything incriminating._

Charles got out of the car and walked towards the high school’s front door. Aside from last winter’s blizzard, Charles had not been inside the building since he was a student. Today would be the first time he walked into the school as an adult, as the spouse of one of the teachers, and as a parent.

He held his head high as he stepped into the administrative office and smiled at the secretary. “Hi, I’d like to speak to Dr. MacTaggart, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?” the elderly school secretary asked. She’d been there since Charles’ time, but she clearly didn’t recognize him, and he couldn’t remember her name.

“No, I don’t. I’m an old friend. I just wanted to say hello. Can you tell her Charles Xavier is here?”

The secretary didn’t have to – Moira must have been eavesdropping because her office door swung open.

“Oh my god! Charles!” Moira was grinning and she pulled him into a big hug. “Come in, come in!” She led him into her office and shut the door behind her. “It’s so great to see you again. You look great! Gosh, I don’t think I would have recognized you!”

That was kind of the plan: Charles made sure to wear a good suit, and he was very grateful that he hadn’t yet given in and shaved the beard he’d grown over his summer vacation. The idea was to look as unlike a high school student as possible.

“Thank you very much,” Charles smiled. “You look fantastic yourself. And a PhD! Congratulations, that’s wonderful!”

“Thank you, yes, I’m very proud of that.” A moment then passed, and Moira’s smile waned as she sat down behind her desk. “I guess Mr. Lehnsherr must have told you that I was here.”

No more small talk then. Charles took a seat, too.

“Yes, he did.”

“I can’t believe you’re still together!” The way she said it, Charles wondered if she really hadn’t believed it, if she thought that Erik had made it up. Surely she must have confirmed it for herself – if nothing else she would have consulted the gossip mill – but she looked genuinely surprised.

“Yup, still together.”

“And I hope that’s by your choice?” she asked delicately.

Charles started. Did she think that Erik had kept him by force?

“Of course it is,” said Charles, and he heard a trace of defensiveness in his voice. “We split up when I went to college, but we ran into each other again a couple of years later and we started dating again, and here we are, I guess.”

Moira didn’t say anything, but Charles could almost see the gears turning in her head.

“I realize that the way we met was rather… unorthodox,” Charles said. “But I hope you can see past it. Erik loves teaching, and he’s been here for, what – sixteen years now? Seventeen? He’s given so much of himself to this school, and I know that the students like him. I hope you won’t vilify him for a mistake that was made before most of his current students were even born.”

Moira sighed and folded her hands on the desk. “Is that why you came here? To defend him?”

“I would have come to say hello regardless, but he’s my husband and I will defend him if necessary.”

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told him,” said Moira, leaning forward. “It is very nice that you are still together, and I hope that you are together happily and consensually.”

_“Consensually?”_

Moira ignored his appalled outburst and continued. “But I will never turn a blind eye to a teacher with a history of sexual contact with a student, and I will absolutely not allow it to happen again, not under my watch.”

“What do you mean ‘allow it to happen again’? You mean you think Erik would fool around with another high school kid? Now? Today?” Charles knew that Erik would never cheat on him. Not because their relationship was so perfect, but because that just wasn’t the type of person Erik was. They’d had their bad patches like anyone else, and Charles knew from experience that if their relationship turned sour, Erik would spend the rest of his life sulking and miserable before he would actually go out and do something about it. That was also why Charles thought it was unlikely that Erik would actually quit teaching, no matter how hard Moira made it for him. He was too stubborn to give up on something he cared about, even when he knew it wasn’t working.

“I am not trying to suggest that,” said Moira. “I’m only considering statistics and relying on what I’ve learned about teacher-student sexual harassment.”

Now Charles was getting annoyed. “Excuse me, but our relationship was not a case of sexual harassment. I was the most enthusiastically consenting seventeen-year-old to ever walk this Earth. In fact, I came on to _him,_ and I was the one who kept pushing him, no matter how guilty he felt about the whole thing. I mean, it’s been fifteen years and he still feels guilty about it!”

Moira’s voice was firm and steady. “Charles, he should feel guilty. He was in a position of power and you were – ” She paused a moment and looked Charles over. “You know what, I don’t think we should be discussing this anymore. I take sexual abuse and sexual harassment very seriously, and I’m sorry, but this is a private, faculty issue that should remain between me and Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss this case any further.”

Again Charles gaped at her. “I _am_ this case!”

“I know. But I need to tread carefully.” Moira sighed, and Charles glimpsed a hint of sadness cross her face. “I wish we could have run into each other under different circumstances. You seem to be doing well for yourself.”

“I am, thank you.” Charles tried to put his frustration away.

“What kind of work do you do?”

“I work in biotech.” Charles didn’t feel like talking about work, and anyway explaining his work to acquaintances typically did nothing but bore them. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

Moira attempted a smile. “I’ve been busy. I started out teaching math, but I wanted to go into administration, so I went back to school. I also have a son, Kevin.” Moira turned one of the framed photos on her desk towards Charles. “He’s ten years old now – I can hardly believe it.”

Charles couldn’t believe it, either. “He was at my house this week!”

“What?”

“Yeah, I guess he made friends with my son, Kurt. I got home from work the other day and they were playing together in front of the house.”

Moira looked stunned. “You’re kidding. I knew he went to a friend’s house, but he told me his friend’s name was Kurt McCoy.”

Normally in these situations, Charles would just say that the kids were adopted and move on, but Moira had known Raven. “He’s actually Raven’s son – Raven and her husband, Hank. Erik and I adopted him and his sister after they passed away. McCoy was Hank’s last name.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I remember hearing about that, now that you mention it. I meant to send flowers, but I’d just had Kevin and… I’m so sorry.”

“That’s all right. It was a long time ago now,” said Charles. “So was that your husband, Joe, who came to pick up Kevin?”

All of the sympathy that had been in Moira’s face vanished. “Ex-husband.”

“He seemed nice.”

“He’s not.”

Charles didn’t quite know what to say to that. “Well, Kevin seems like a good kid, and he’s welcome to come over any time. Kurt had a lot of fun with him the other day.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” said Moira, still looking stung, for reasons Charles couldn’t quite grasp.

A heavy silence hung between them. Charles glanced at his watch. “What time does the last bell ring?” he asked. “I was hoping to see Erik when he’s finished with class.”

“Not for another thirty minutes, and unfortunately I have some things that I need to finish up today.” Moira stood and held out her hand.

Charles could take the hint. “Well, it was nice seeing you again,” Charles said as he shook Moira’s hand. “Maybe we can get together some time.”

“Nice seeing you, too, Charles. And if you ever need to talk, please don’t hesitate.”

With that, Charles left Moira’s office, and she closed the door behind him.

“Sir, are you finished with your meeting?” the school secretary asked him. Charles realized he was loitering in a very busy room.

“Yes, thank you,” he said.

“Then I’m going to have to ask you to leave. We cannot have outside visitors on school property during normal classroom hours without authorization.”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for Mr. Lehnsherr.”

She put down her crossword puzzle. “Then you can wait for him outside of school property.”

Charles stood there for a minute, staring at her, scratching at his beard, wondering what to do.

“Sir, if you don’t leave I’m required to call security.”

“All right, I’m leaving,” he gave in, and headed for the door.

 

==

 

Erik texted Charles a half an hour later, after the final bell had rung. _How did it go?_

Charles texted back: _Not sure._

 

==

 

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Erik asked later that evening. They stood in the kitchen, Erik gathering ingredients for dinner, Charles nibbling at those ingredients when Erik wasn’t looking.

“I mean I don’t know. I don’t know what she thought.”

“Well, what did she say?”

Charles crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. “She said she couldn’t turn a blind eye, and it couldn’t happen again, and then she said she couldn’t talk about it anymore, and then we talked about Kurt and Kevin.”

“There has to be more than that,” Erik said, frowning into the box of pasta he’d just opened. “She must have said something else.”

She had, of course, but Charles didn’t see how it would help matters if he brought up the things she’d implied about their relationship. “That’s it, I swear. I don’t know how many more times we can go over this.”

Erik filled a pot with water. “One more time. You walked into the office, and you asked Miss Blankenship to talk to Dr. MacTaggart. And you did refer to her as Dr. MacTaggart, right?”

“Yes, I said ‘Dr. MacTaggart.’” Charles rolled his eyes. “Would you like me to see if I can get a transcript for you?”

Erik shot him a sarcastic glare as he set the water to boil, but before they could continue, Kurt came sulking into the kitchen with a big pout on his face.

“What’s the matter?” Erik asked him.

“Kevin’s not coming over tomorrow,” Kurt said.

Erik and Charles exchanged a glance.

“Why not?” Charles asked.

“He said his mom said he’s not allowed over anymore.”

Charles’ heart sank. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he told Kurt, but his eyes were on Erik.

Erik looked like he’d gone pale. He said nothing. He only slumped his shoulders, turned off the stove, and left the kitchen.


	19. Wildcard: Erik & Edie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make my wildcard space "dealer's choice," so I asked unforgotten which prompt she would like to see me fill. She chose Erik & Edie.
> 
>  
> 
> [And look, I got another bingo!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/030d32f7628a26cc471f6ec4c938a58d/tumblr_mns3j43DYi1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Erik saw Marie stepping out of the front door to chase after him just as he sped out of the driveway. He didn’t stop. It was Charles he was mad at, not her, but all he wanted to do was get out onto the highway, roll the windows up, and scream as loud as he could. He just didn’t have it in him to stop and reassure her that yes he was coming back, no she didn’t do anything wrong, yes everything was going to be okay. He was too furious, and he didn’t trust himself not to take his anger out on his own eight-year-old daughter. So he gunned the engine and tore down their quiet, residential street and out onto the highway, leaving poor Marie standing on the lawn. He’d feel terrible about that later, but for the moment, he just had to get out of that fucking house before he did or said something he’d really regret.

He and Charles were supposed to be leaving in the morning – they’d booked a hotel room, just the two of them, at a resort in Cape Cod for five days to celebrate their fifth anniversary – but Charles had come home from work and told Erik that he had to cancel, that he couldn’t take the time off and they’d just have to try again next year. No matter that they’d made a full, nonrefundable deposit that had cost them a week of Erik’s salary. Apparently that was just pocket change to Charles, since he moved to this new company and became a big shot. Erik accused Charles of being immature and irresponsible for changing their plans and throwing Erik’s money away at a moment’s notice. Charles snapped at him that if he walked away from this project in the middle of it then they’d lose fourteen times that amount of money, and felt the need to remind Erik that they’d just bought an enormous fucking house that still needed to be paid for. Erik said that he knew all about the fucking house because he’d been trapped in it with the kids all summer watching cartoons and silly him, he thought he might actually get to spend some time with Charles, that guy he used to be married to, and hmmmm, whatever happened to him? Haven’t seen him in a few months. Then Charles told him that unfortunately most people had to work more than one hundred and eighty days per year and had responsibilities that couldn’t be managed by a song from School House Rock. Things quickly got worse from there. Only an Olympic skier could have gone downhill faster.

He came to a divide in the highway and in a snap decision, decided he was going to drive out to Montauk, the farthest, easternmost tip of Long Island. There wasn’t any reason why Montauk, of all places, except that it was far away and there was a beach. He’d spent all that money on their trip, and he at least deserved to see the ocean, with or without Charles.

He ended up only getting as far as Westhampton before he had to get out of the car. His back was aching him and he had to stretch his legs. He’d wanted to get all the way to Montauk, to the edge of the world, but he was sick of driving and figured a beach was a beach, so he pulled his car right up to the sand, got out, took his shoes off, and walked to the water’s edge. He thought that when he got there, he’d want to scream into the ocean, but instead he just sighed and sat down in the sand, letting the tide lap against his feet.

It took some time, but eventually, by the time the sun had begun to set, Erik calmed down.

Not knowing what else to do, he got back in the car and drove back the way he came, but he wasn’t ready to go home yet. He had nothing more to say to Charles, not that night anyway. For a moment he considered getting a hotel room, but that just seemed depressing: sleeping alone in a shitty motel on Long Island would only remind him of the five-star resort he would not be sharing with Charles.

He decided to go to his mother’s house. It was the only other place he could think to go, and besides, he thought it might be nice to walk in the door and have someone be happy to see him for a change. The last time he’d gone running to his mom’s house upset like this was after he’d botched his proposal to Charles and they’d broken up. He spent the night on her couch, and she’d made him soup and pet his hair and told him it would be all right. He tried not to wonder if these were bookends, if he would look back on this and see that he’d cried on Mom’s couch at the start of his marriage and again at the end of it.

He arrived in Queens around 9:00 and after circling for twenty minutes, finally found a parking spot a few blocks away from the house. No open parking places - everyone must be home, he thought. The neighborhood was quiet. At first he wondered if he was going to wake his mother, but as he climbed the steps to the front door he saw that the lights were on inside and he could hear voices.

He knocked, then turned the unlocked doorknob and stepped inside.

A table was set up in the living room, covered in playing cards and poker chips, and sitting around it were six old ladies, who put down their cigarettes and liquor and turned to gape at him.

“Who are you?” asked one of them, a woman at the far side of the card table who squinted at him through coke-bottle glasses. She had to wave her hand to clear the smoke from in front of her face.

The lady on her left said, “That’s Edie’s son, Rick!”

“Rick?” asked another. “I thought her son’s name was Ed? You remember him, don’t you? The gay one? Nice boy.”

“My name is Erik!” he snapped. “What the hell is going on here?”

“It’s poker night. What does it look like?” said the first lady, taking a drag on her cigarette.

Erik gaped at her.

“Erik?” he heard his mom’s voice call out, and she stepped out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food. “What are you doing here?”

All the ladies at the poker table turned to look at him, waiting for an answer.

“I, uh…” Erik ran a hand through his hair. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll get out of your way. I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All at once the ladies erupted in a chorus of “No! You just got here! Sit down! Have a drink! We’ll deal you in! Eat something!” And Erik found himself sitting there at the card table between his mom and Mrs. Siegel from down the street, holding five cards in his hand, and being poured a glass of Hennessy.

“Hennessy, Ma? What are you, Jay-Z?”

“What’s Jay-Z?” asked Mrs. Siegel.

Edie dropped an ice cube in Erik’s glass and explained, “Carol brought it back from her trip to France.”

Carol Dukes had been his mother’s best friend for at least forty years, but it had been so long since Erik had last seen her that he didn’t even realize that was her sitting across the table.

“It was a wonderful tour,” Carol said. “Have you ever been to France, Erik?”

“No, I haven’t,” he said as he sipped his drink. “How are you, Mrs. Dukes? How’s Freddie?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Same as always. Freddie’s doing very well. He and his wife moved to Philadelphia a few years ago. I don’t know why anyone would want to live in Pennsylvania, but they seem to like it. They’ve got three kids now! I can hardly believe it!”

“Edie was showing us pictures of your kids earlier,” said Mrs. Siegel. “That little boy – Kurt? What a cutie! He looks just like you when you were a kid.”

Erik smiled blandly and nodded. He never knew what to say when people told him that the kids looked like him. He wasn’t sure if there was an actual resemblance or if it was just one of those things that people said to parents. In the beginning he always felt like Raven’s ghost was standing over his shoulder, and for her sake he needed to correct people and let them know that no, actually, they’re adopted. No relation. But it started to hurt saying that after a while. They were his kids. They called him Dad. It was painful to hear himself explaining to strangers that there was an asterisk there. More than that, he didn’t want Kurt or Marie to overhear him and think that he didn’t think of them as his own. So he stopped explaining to people. They were just his kids. No further detail required.

As they resumed the card game, Edie said, “And I get to spend a whole five days with them this week while Erik and Charles are on vacation. We are going to have so much fun! I’ve been looking forward to this for a month. I hope Marie’s gotten over her issues with birds, Erik, because I’m taking them to the Bronx Zoo.”

“No, she still hates birds,” said Erik. “And so do I. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because the trip is canceled.”

“What? Why?”

“Oh, Charles and I had a fight,” he grumbled.

Edie put her hand around Erik’s shoulders. “Oh, my baby, what happened?”

It all tumbled out of him: the fight, the hotel deposit, the hours Charles had been working since he got his new job, the things they said to each other, the storming out, the failed drive to Montauk, all of it. Erik wished he could blame the Hennessy for spilling his guts in front of all of his mother’s drunk, chain-smoking friends, but he’d only had two sips of it. This was just him, at the end of his rope.

When he finally stopped talking and took a breath, he looked around at the table at the concerned, sympathetic faces, waiting for them to pronounce his marriage as DOA.

“Oh, honey,” his mother said, squeezing him tighter. “Everyone fights about these things. It’s going to be okay.”

Erik shot her a skeptical look.

“Everyone fights about money,” she went on. “Everyone fights about work hours. Everyone fights when things start to change. You just bought a house – that’s extremely stressful. And Charles has a big new job with a lot of responsibility and that’s going to take some time to adjust to, both for you and for him.”

Hearing his mom say that made Erik wince a little. That had been one of the worst moments of their fight: Charles accused Erik of resenting his success, because he was going forward and Erik was still teaching tenth graders how to read a newspaper. The worst part was that it was true. Part of Erik did resent Charles, resented how far Charles had already gone in his life, while Erik was in the exact same place he was when they met. Erik wouldn’t admit that, though. Instead he accused Charles of being an egomaniac.

“You have to find a way to get through it,” Edie continued, petting his hair. “You have to find a way to move past fights like this and adjust. I know how stubborn you are, but digging in your heels during times like these is only going to make everything worse.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“Cool down. Stay here and play cards with us. Have a drink. Then go home and say you’re sorry and find a way to compromise.”

“That’s it?” he asked. “Apologize and compromise?”

“That’s all you can do,” Carol piped up.

“And let go of your anger,” added Mrs. Siegel. “You can say you’re sorry and agree to disagree, but it won’t do any good if he sees you’re still angry. You have to let it go.”

Erik had never been good at that, and he knew it. He and Charles had fought before, and Mrs. Siegel was right – the recovery was always the worst for him. Everything would seem like it was back to normal, but there were times when he could still feel the anger lingering in him for days, poisoning their relationship all over again.

Erik just nodded.

His mom patted his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “You can get through this, I promise.” She ran a hand through his hair. “You’re starting to go gray, you know that?”

“Yeah, thanks. Way to kick me when I’m down,” he pouted.

“Oh, shush,” she said, rolling her eyes, then returned to the game. “It’s your turn, honey. What are you going to do?”

Erik looked at his cards: he had three nines. Not a great hand, but nothing to throw away. “Two bucks,” he said, and tossed in his chips.

It was lucky, he thought, that he’d showed up during poker night. Embarrassing as it was to lose what little cash he had in his wallet to little old ladies, it was a good distraction, and he actually had fun. If he hadn’t come here, he would have ended up stewing in his own misery, and the fight with Charles would have just started to seem worse and worse and worse. He would have spiraled the argument out of control and straight into divorce proceedings, but by the time he was asking his mom if he could borrow ten bucks to keep playing, the whole fight, in retrospect, seemed… not all that bad. Not in the long run. Or maybe that was just the Hennessy talking.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Siegel as she took another stack of chips from Erik. “Practice a little bit and you can come back next week and win it all back.”

The phone rang in the kitchen as the ladies laughed, and Erik jokingly told her, “You watch – I will!”

Edie answered the phone. “It’s Charles,” she told Erik. “He would like to speak with you.”

The room fell silent, and Erik stood to answer the phone. He tried to pull the cord far enough that none of the ladies would hear him, but unfortunately he could only get it to stretch as far as the opposite side of the kitchen. Stupid landlines.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hi,” Charles said. “I called your cell phone a hundred times and I was getting so angry at you for ignoring my calls, and then I realized you left your phone on top of your dresser.”

“I did?” Erik checked his pants pockets – empty.

“Yeah, it’s right here.” He paused. “I guess you’re at your mom’s then.”

“Yeah. She’s having ladies’ poker night. Well, ladies plus me, now. I’m getting my ass kicked. I lost almost forty bucks!” he chuckled.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. They’re pretty tough. I mean, they’ve been playing every week for twenty years, so they’re pretty good. We should take them to Vegas. We’d clean up.”

Charles didn’t respond to that. After a moment he said, “Look, I was thinking about all this, and really there’s only a couple of things I need to do for work: I have some calculations I have to finish, and there are two or three meetings that I should really be a part of. But I can call into the meetings from my cell phone, and I can bring my laptop and get the calculations and whatever other work done from the hotel.” He took a breath. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to spend time with you, or that I haven’t been looking forward to this as much as you have, or that I somehow would rather be at work than away on vacation with you, because that’s not true at all. I love you so much, and I hate that I have to make these kinds of choices. So what if we did that? What if we went, and I just brought some work I have to do while we’re away? You can go hang out by the pool or sleep in or whatever else while I work. You can still be mad at me, but mad at me on vacation, at least.”

Erik took a deep breath. He had to compromise. He had to get past this. And Charles was offering an olive branch. “Just a few hours per day, right? You’re not going to be working from eight in the morning until eight at night while we’re in Cape Cod, are you?”

“No, no,” said Charles. “Just a couple of hours a day. I absolutely, one hundred percent promise. And if I do try to work more than four or five hours, you can feel free to throw my laptop into the ocean.”

Erik felt himself smile a little bit. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And I’m sorry,” Charles added. “About some of the things I said earlier. I crossed the line. I crossed several lines, actually.”

“I did, too. And I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

Charles paused a minute. “So we’re back on, then?”

“Yeah,” Erik sighed. “We’re back on.”


	20. Fisting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [My bingo card.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/5a2ab37d54bea525cdcf87e57af6decd/tumblr_mo5ft6CLSr1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

"Beautiful," Charles murmured, his voice buttery and lazy like the morning light, and Erik's body shuddered. "Look at you," he said as he inserted another finger.

Erik, on his hands and knees on the unmade bed, dropped to his elbows, whispering Charles' name.

"That's it," said Charles. "You’re being so good for me this morning." Erik let out a strange, strangled little noise of pleasure and annoyance at that. Charles hooked his fingers, and as Erik let out another cry, he asked, "Are you enjoying this, Mr. Lehnsherr?"

Erik tried to answer, but his voice was muffled by the pillow. Mr. Lehnsherr – he hated when Charles called him Mr. Lehnsherr. Charles had very carefully and pointedly not called him that for months when they first started dating again, but now lately, now that things felt solid between them, Charles had started to let it trickle back into their conversations, mainly to annoy him. At the moment it was… well, it was kind of working for Erik, if he was being honest with himself.

"Mr. Lehnsherr, I asked you a question," Charles teased, and pulled his fingers out.

Erik was breathing heavily. "Yes. Yes, I’m enjoying this."

"Very good," said Charles, who then spread Erik's cheeks wide to insert his tongue once again.

When Erik was open and wet, his cock upright and his balls twitching, Charles removed his mouth and, with some additional lube, inserted his fingers once again: three this time.

"Another," Erik said into the pillow.

"What's that?"

"More, Charles. I need more.

After a pause, Charles said, "Ask me nicely."

Erik huffed. Apparently their little morning game was taking a turn – not that Erik was complaining. "Please, Charles,” he said.

"Please what, darling?"

"Charles, please put another finger inside of me."

Charles obliged almost before Erik had finished the sentence, and Erik rewarded him with a surprised cry of pleasure. "That's good," said Charles. "Very good."

"Please. More," Erik said moments later.

"Already?"

"Please, Charles."

Erik gasped and cursed when he felt Charles spread the four fingers he already had inside of him.

"What if I like you just like this?" Charles teased, all part of the game. "Four fingers up, writhing beneath me. Maybe I want to keep you just like this?"

"Please, Charles," Erik whimpered.

"Is this not enough for you, Mr. Lehnsherr?"

Erik let out another cry of enjoyment, calling Charles' name, and without another word, Charles thrust his hand further inside Erik.

But as Erik bellowed into the pillow, another voice called out, “Hello?”

They both froze.

From the living room, they heard Charles’ mother. “Hello? Charles, we need to go over the new lease.”

“Oh, fuck,” said Charles, and he pulled his hand out of Erik, causing Erik to yelp with pain as much as pleasure and come over the bedsheets.

“Charles!” he hissed, his body quivering through completion.

Charles held a finger to his lips. “Shhhh!”

A minute later, once he could see straight again, Erik asked through heavy breaths, “What the fuck is your mother doing here?”

Her voice rang out again: “Charles?”

Charles called out to her, “Just a minute!” He then whispered to Erik, “I don’t know, but you have to go out there and talk to her.”

_“What?”_

“I can’t go out there like this!” Charles said. By that he meant “fully erect,” as Erik was now seeing.

Erik smirked. “Well, I can take care of that for you,” he said, reaching for Charles’s cock.

But Charles pushed him away. “I’m not having sex with you while my mother’s in the next room! Clean yourself up and go talk to her. Give me a minute to… Just give me a few minutes, all right?”

“Seriously?” Erik rolled his eyes and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fine,” he grumbled, and sat at the edge of Charles’ bed. Fortunately, Charles kept a box of tissues on his nightstand, so Erik cleaned himself up as best he could, threw some clothes on, and stepped out into the living room of Charles’ apartment.

Mrs. Xavier was standing in the tiny kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the pile of dishes in the drying rack on the counter.

“Good morning,” Erik said.

“Good morning,” said Mrs. Xavier. She arched an eyebrow at him, and Erik wasn’t sure if that meant she was surprised to see him or merely disappointed.

“Charles will be out in a minute,” said Erik. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?”

Mrs. Xavier sneered at Charles’ beat up old Mr. Coffee and shook her head. “No, thank you.” Erik went to go start the coffee maker for himself anyway. “By the way, the door was unlocked,” she said. “You’re lucky it was me that walked in here and not some drug addict looking to steal the TV.”

“One of your tenants came knocking on the door at 8am to deliver his rent check,” said Erik. “Charles must have forgotten to lock the door when he came back to bed.”

Again Mrs. Xavier’s eyebrow shot up – but it was hardly a secret at this point that they’d been in bed together. She’d just seen Erik walk out of Charles’ bedroom at 9:45 in the morning, after all, wearing pajama pants and, as he was now seeing in his reflection on the microwave, a serious case of sex hair.

“So what brings you down to Manhattan this early?” Erik asked, smoothing down his hair.

“Brunch with David Rockefeller.”

Erik laughed. “No, really.”

“Junior, not senior. Anyway, since I’m a bit early I was hoping to get some business with Charles out of the way beforehand.”

Charles stepped out of the bedroom looking rumpled and flushed. “Mom, you can’t just show up on a Saturday morning like this!”

Mrs. Xavier looked them both up and down. “Why? Was I interrupting something?”

Erik and Charles exchanged a glance.

“We were asleep!” Charles said.

“I’m sure you were,” said Mrs. Xavier, digging a file folder out of her bag. “Now just give me fifteen minutes so we can go over this new lease and then you can go ‘sleep’ each other all you like.”


	21. Emma/Moira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ Bingo!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/30c4393bb98074943e75265507980d6e/tumblr_moxff9bLst1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

Erik was not going to go down without a fight. At some point over the days following Moira’s arrival as the new principal, he became a man obsessed. It was only a matter of days, he felt sure, before Moira would make her move and try to take him down, and when that happened, he was going to be ready.

The words “You can’t fire me I quit!” were on his tongue almost every waking moment. He thought about it in the shower. He thought about it in bed. He thought about it in the car. He thought about it while he ate. He thought about what he’d say, what he’d do, what Moira might say back, what he’d tell the students, what he’d say to Janos and Azazel and Emma. He imagined how it would happen, when it would happen, how Moira would do it, what might be the tipping point. Some days he imagined storming out with his head held high, and other days he imagined himself raising hell and taking the whole school down with him. His every waking moment was spent imagining every possible scenario of his impending last day, at least in the beginning.

But as the weeks went by, he thought less about how he’d leave and more about where he’d go. The old saying, according to Charles, was that the best revenge was living well, and he had every intention of getting his revenge. _He’d show her,_ he thought _._ He’d get another teaching job, maybe at some exclusive private school, someplace where they’d appreciate him. He knew he could count on Howlett for a good recommendation, even if Moira wouldn’t give one. It would kill her to see him moving on to a bigger and better school, away from her petty nonsense, and Erik thought he might enjoy that.

Some days he went farther. Some days he imagined that, after Moira fired him, he’d go into politics. For real this time, not just talking about it in front of bored teenagers. He didn’t see himself running for office, but maybe he could work for the local congressman, or for the county. He could join the local Democrats and organize elections and canvassing and grassroots campaigns.

He’d always wished he’d been a reporter. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe he could write for the local paper or something. Maybe he could write a book.

Or maybe he’d do something completely different. Maybe he’d get another degree in… oh, forestry or something. No, not forestry. He could barely keep his tomato plants alive. But something else. This would be his last chance, probably. He was still young enough to learn and to start something new, and he knew Charles would support him no matter what he did. So why not do something completely different?

He found himself browsing the list of majors at SUNY-Purchase. He already had a master’s in education; he shouldn’t need too many credits to get a second bachelor’s in, say, creative writing. Or sociology. Or ‘New Media,’ whatever that was. Or maybe he would study biology — he and Charles could be bio students together.

The more he thought about it, though, he realized didn’t really want to go back to school. He wanted to work. Erik was one of the highest paid teachers in one of the highest-paying school districts in the country, and though it sometimes felt like pocket change compared to Charles’ money, he couldn’t stand the idea of being completely dependent on someone else financially. He would inevitably take a pay cut when starting a new career, but he still wanted to contribute to their finances. He still wanted his work to matter. So he started brushing up his resume (something he hadn’t done since the Clinton administration) and reading articles with titles like “Acing the Interview” and “10 Things Employers Don’t Want To See.” For the first time in fifteen years, Erik began job hunting.

When Moira brought the hammer down, he would be ready. He was ready.

September passed into October. October into November, then December. It still hadn’t happened yet, and his coworkers were starting to think he was nuts.

“I still don’t understand why you think she’s out to get you,” Emma said to him over drinks at the pub one evening.

“She told me she was! She told me herself!”

“Yes, but that was months ago. She hasn’t done anything or said anything about it recently, has she?”

Erik frowned, trying to come up with some example that would make Emma understand how imminent his firing was. “She’s observed my classroom three times!” he said.

Emma shrugged. “She observed mine twice. So what?” She ignored Erik’s scowl and went on. “She’s not so bad. You should give her a chance. She’s been giving you a chance, hasn’t she?”

“A chance to what?” Erik snapped. “I can’t undo the past sixteen years of my life.”

Emma only shook her head and told him, “She’s not out to get you.”

Erik should have known better than to try to talk about this with Emma – he’d thought she would be a good person to confide in, considering Emma had met Charles and she knew the situation, but she and Moira had apparently become friendly. She seemed to think that Moira was being – horror of horrors – reasonable.

Worse yet: so did Charles.

“Moira gave you a glowing review today,” Charles told him one evening as they were cleaning up after dinner.

“When?” he asked. “Why? How?”

“She said you’re probably the best teacher the school has.” Erik must have let his horror show on his face, because Charles went on to explain, “She was here earlier. I asked her how you were getting along.”

Erik’s eyes went wide. “Here? She was _here?”_

“Kevin came over to play with Kurt and she came to pick him up.”

Erik didn’t even know where to start with that, choosing instead to stare blankly at Charles until the world started making sense again.

Charles smiled gently at him. “I told you, once she got to know you, and us, she would figure out that you’re not what she thought you were. It’s been a couple of months now. She’s starting to back off a bit, isn’t she? She let Kevin come over – granted, I told her you were going to be at your mother’s all day today. But it’s a start. And you said she hasn’t been keeping as close an eye on you at work as she was in the beginning, right?”

Erik sighed as he put the last dish away and sat down at the kitchen table. Charles never gave up trying to smooth things over between him and Moira, no matter how much Erik insisted it was a lost cause. “She’s not just going to change her mind!” he insisted, shaking his head. “It’s only a matter of time. Eventually she’s going to find a way to get rid of me, and that will be it.” He grabbed his laptop from his bag and, as he’d done every night for the past few weeks, began browsing job ads.

Charles sat down beside him. “No, she’s not going to stop being concerned about you, but she’s not going to fire you without reason. And you’re not giving her any reason.” He shrugged. “The first week or two was rough, but it’s getting better, I think. Isn’t it?”

Erik shrugged and clicked on a job posting, only to grumble, “Everything is sales, and they all want five years’ experience.”

Charles put his hand on Erik’s thigh and gave it a small squeeze. “You know, if you want to find a new job, you don’t have to wait for Moira to fire you to do it. Especially since I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon, if ever. I’ve always told you that if you wanted to leave there and try something new, I would support you.”

“I’m not quitting my job, Charles,” he said. “I’m just… I want to be prepared.”

If Charles didn’t believe that, he didn’t say so. He only stood, patted Erik on the shoulder, and went into his office.

The winter break came and went. Moira was even surprisingly cordial towards him when the new semester started, asking if he had a good break, saying that she hoped he and his family had a nice holiday. Erik didn’t know what sort of game she was playing, but whatever it was, it made him uneasy. Maybe she’d been waiting until after the new year to bring the hammer down. He couldn’t imagine why that would be, but if he was going to be canned before the end of January, he was ready for it.

January turned to February without any trouble from Moira.

“You know, I was totally with you back in September,” Emma told him one afternoon when they were alone in the teacher’s lounge. “Moira was after you for _you know what_ , and she was pretty clear about it. But now it’s been six months and I’m starting to think you’re the one losing your marbles. She’s backed off. Why haven’t you?”

“She hasn’t backed off!” he told her. “She’s just… biding her time. Waiting for the right moment to strike.”

Emma arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid!”

“Moira is a reasonable person. She just… she didn’t handle it well, but she did what she thought she had to do at the time, for better or for worse. But if she’s willing to try to find a way to work with you, I don’t see why you won’t do the same.”

Erik eyed Emma. “Why are you so eager to defend her?”

Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. “I like her. That’s all.”

“You like her?” Erik found this hard to believe.

Emma shrugged and stood from the table. “Yes, I like Moira. Sorry to disappoint you, but I do.” She dumped her mug of tea into the sink and, without facing Erik again, muttered, “I have to get back to class,” and walked out without another word.

February was as uneventful as it always was, and then suddenly it was March, and spring was on its way. It was time to start planning for the end of the year. It looked like he was going to survive the school year after all. Erik knew he should feel relieved by that, but the relief never came. He almost felt disappointed.

Two weeks into March, Moira called Erik into her office for a chat. She liked to meet with each member of the faculty at least once per month, just to “catch up,” in her words. The first few times, Erik was sure he was getting the boot. No such luck. Apparently she really did just want to chat.

“How are things?” he asked as he shut her office door behind him and sat down. “I hear Kevin’s having a birthday party in a couple of weeks. That should be fun.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your Washington trip,” said Moira.

Every year, for the past ten years, Erik had taken his AP Government and Politics class on a field trip to Washington D.C. during the second week of May. He’d just started putting together this year’s plans – a little late, but it was routine by now. All he really needed was a headcount and a stack of signed permission slips (and payment) and he was ready to go.

“What about it?” he asked.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea, considering your history at the school. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to cancel it.”

Erik’s jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry to do this to you at the last minute, but I only saw the request a couple of days ago,” said Moira. Her voice was firm and steady, and she sounded sincere. “I’ve considered it carefully, and knowing that you have a history of sexual contact with a student, I can’t in good conscience release a group of minors into your custody for an out of state, overnight trip.”

Erik had spent the past seven months imagining a showdown with Moira – hundreds of different scenarios, ranging from the most mundane to the most explosive. But he’d never imagined this.

“The reason for the cancellation will remain between us. I’ll blame budget cuts or security concerns – or whatever you’d prefer. Your class is possibly the toughest in the entire school, and I’m sorry that you won’t be able to reward them with this like you usually do. I hope we can come up with some kind of alternative. Maybe you can have a pizza party or something? I know - that sucks compared to a trip to Washington. Something else? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I quit.”

“What?”

“I quit,” he said again.

Moira looked taken aback. Erik didn’t know why she was so surprised – he’d assumed she’d been preparing for this moment just as much as he had.

“I’m not – I’m only asking you not to take twenty-five minors on a bus out of state,” she sputtered. “There’s no need to do anything drastic. Let’s not make any rash decisions, all right?”

He’d spent countless hours over the past few months lying awake at night, imagining the fight he would have with Moira, imagining that he would be forced out of the school . But Moira wasn’t going to force him out. She was giving him an opportunity to compromise, to find a way to make this all work. She wouldn’t force him out; it was up to him to choose where to go from here.

He took a deep breath and confessed, “This isn’t a rash decision, Moira. I’ve been thinking about it for some time now, and I think it’s time for me to move on. I was twenty-six years old when I started working here, and I never expected to still be here five years later, let alone fifteen years later. I never imagined that this would be my whole life, and if I don’t leave now, it will be.” He sighed. “I know you’ve been trying to make it work, but you don’t trust me, and you never will. I can stay here, constantly feeling like I’m on strike two, or I can see what else is out there for me. I’m going to see what else is out there.”

Slowly, Moira nodded. “I’m sorry that it had to be this way.”

Erik stood. “I’ll finish out the school year. I guess I should probably write a letter of resignation to make it official.”

“That would be best,” Moira said as she stood to shake his hand. “For what it’s worth, you really are a great teacher.”

“Thank you,” said Erik. “I hope I’ll be good at whatever I do next, too.”

He wrote his letter of resignation the following day – just a few lines to do the job, nothing overly sentimental. It was the rest of the faculty that became sentimental, throwing him a lavish farewell party at the pub on the evening following graduation.

Everyone showed up and wished him well, but it was Emma, Janos, and Azazel he really wanted to spend time with. The four of them lingered at the pub well after everyone else had left. Azazel stayed for one more beer before he went home, then Janos left a short while later, leaving him and Emma at the bar, sharing one last round of drinks as coworkers.

“You know it wasn’t anything personal,” Emma said, slurring. “Moira takes these things very seriously. She’s very…” Emma made a hand gesture that Erik read as drunk for _strict_.

“I know, I know,” Erik said. The truth was that he didn’t care about what happened with Moira anymore; he wanted to move on.

“She was trying to do the right thing. Her husband was a lot older than her and he was abusive, she told me. He hit her. I think that’s why she freaked out.”

That part Erik didn’t know.

“She’s not perfect,” Emma continued into her martini glass. “But she’s not bad. She’s not a bad person. I like her. I think she’s… I like her. I thought she liked me, but I don’t think so anymore.”

Erik saw the broken look in Emma’s glassy eyes. “It’s okay if you like her,” he said gently.

“No, it’s not.” Emma crossed her arms on the bar and rested her chin on her forearm. “She’s very strict about these things, you know.”

“I know,” said Erik. He pushed a lock of blond hair off her face. “Are you going to be all right getting home?”

“Scott’s coming to pick me up,” she told him, then lifted her head off the bar. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“Are you going to be all right?” Emma asked.

“I’m going to be fine,” Erik smiled, and went home to Charles, a teacher no more.


	22. One Night Stand Stranger Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Double bingo!](http://25.media.tumblr.com/706a09589ff81ccae51a5d5587f6ecd0/tumblr_mp7t266FB31s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

It had been twelve years since Charles had put school on the backburner to become a full-time parent to Kurt and Marie, but he finally got his doctorate. By all accounts he should not have done it, earning his master’s and now his doctorate one painful credit at a time, sometimes taking years between semesters – he certainly didn’t need the schooling for his career, and if anything he probably would have been better off going to business school instead of studying biology. But he’d done it. Dr. Charles Xavier. He’d have to order new business cards.

He wasn’t the only graduate in his thirties, nor was he the only graduate with children there at the ceremony, but he was certainly the only grad whose bio in the program included phrases like “vice president of research and development” and “majority shareholder” and “member of the board of directors.” Sometimes he thought the other doctoral students resented him for taking a slot in the program that he clearly didn’t need; other times he thought they respected him because he was so obviously there because he wanted to be.

“How do I work it?” Edie asked, turning Erik’s camera over in her hands.

Erik rolled his eyes. “It’s a camera, Ma. You hold it up and push the button.”

Charles, Erik, Marie, and Kurt held their pose while Edie studied the camera. They’d gathered under a tree to take pictures while Charles still wore his cap and gown and the kids wore their best. The sight of Kurt wearing a shirt with a collar was reason enough to take pictures, graduation or no graduation.

Charles felt tiny with the three of them gathered around him. Erik had always been taller than him, but Marie towered over Charles now, too – she was already an inch taller than him barefoot, but in the heels she’d worn for Charles’ graduation, she was closer to Erik’s height than to his. Kurt, too, was creeping up on Charles. They didn’t share many facial features, but it looked as though Kurt had inherited the Xavier height and build.  Pretty soon he and Charles would be wearing the same clothes.

“Ma, what are you waiting for?” said Erik, his arm slung around Marie’s shoulders. “A monkey could do it!”

“All right! All right!” She held the camera up and called to them, “Everybody say graduation!”

Charles was the only one who actually said it, drawing some genuine giggles out of the rest of them. It was a great picture.

*

Erik slapped Charles’ hand away when he tried to reach for the check.

“Ow!”

“Don’t you dare.” Erik slid the bill towards himself with a smirk. “It’s your day, doctor. You’re not paying.” He made an exaggerated wincing face when he saw the total, but handed the waiter his personal credit card to pay for the meal. They’d gone out to Charles’ favorite local restaurant to celebrate his graduation, and they’d gone a bit overboard. They probably didn’t need to order every single dessert on the menu, but Erik insisted that they would get anything the doctor wanted, and Charles could never pass up any dessert with the word “peanut butter” in its name.

“Well, thank you,” said Charles. “This was wonderful. I don’t think I’ll ever eat this much ever again. At least not until Marie gets her doctorate.”

Marie made a face that made Charles laugh, then turned to Erik, asking, “Can I drive home?” She was three months into her learner’s permit and Erik had already begun passing down his lead foot.

Erik shook his head. “The doctor and I are staying out a while longer. You’re going home with Nana.”

Kurt looked back and forth between Erik and Charles. “What? Why?”

“Because your dad finally graduated and we’d like to spend some time together to celebrate.” Erik signed the receipt for the bill and they all stood to leave. “We can go for a drive tomorrow.”

Charles grabbed Marie and pulled her into a hug before she could pout about not driving home.

“Congratulations,” she said quietly, hugging him tighter. By now she understood why it had taken him so long to finish school, and he knew that she was genuinely proud of him.

“Thank you,” he told her, and kissed her cheek.

Kurt echoed Marie’s congratulations and tried to give him a one-armed teenage boy hug, but Charles was having none of that – he squeezed him so hard he lifted Kurt off the ground and gave him a big loud kiss on the cheek.

“Eww! Stop!” Kurt whined.

The kids piled into Edie’s old Toyota and the three of them went back to the house, where presumably Kurt would go into the basement to play video games, Marie would go up to her room to chat with friends online, and Edie would watch TV and talk on the phone. But Charles and Erik stayed behind.

Erik was looking dapper. He’d been dressing better these past couple of years, giving him an air of confidence and class that he could never quite manage when he was younger. He wore a trim, light suit - perfect for a warm, spring afternoon. A pair of aviator sunglasses hung from the collar of the crisp, pale blue shirt underneath. His silver hair was neat - he’d had it cut recently - but still he couldn’t resist running a hand through it. He looked sleek and sharp, and Charles suspected he knew it.

“So, what do you think?” he asked Charles. “Do you still want to go to the movies?”

“I do if you do.” The last time Charles had been to the movies, it had been Marie’s eleventh birthday and he’d taken her and ten of her closest friends to see the latest cartoon princess. Their usual movie routine involved ordering something from On Demand after the kids had turned in for the night, which Charles would watch for approximately thirty-five minutes before falling asleep while Erik sat next to him and read a book. Going out to an adult movie in an actual theater with Erik seemed downright decadent.

Erik pulled out his phone and scrolled through the showtimes. They’d decided on a psychological thriller that had come out two weeks earlier, not because either of them particularly cared for psychological thrillers but because it was the only movie at their local theater that had received halfway decent reviews. If movie-going was going to turn into a once-in-a-decade affair, they didn’t want to waste it on something terrible.

“The next show isn’t for another hour and a half,” said Erik. “Do you want to see something else or do you want to wait? We could go back into the restaurant and have a drink or something.”

Charles shrugged. “That’s fine by me,” he said as they walked back into the restaurant and headed for the bar. “I’m just going to go use the men’s room.”

It was an odd feeling, being finished with school. He supposed it should feel liberating to know that he would no longer have to come home from an eleven hour workday and pick up his dissertation. The relief would probably come in the fall, when the next semester would start without him, but for the moment it all felt very anticlimactic. Charles was proud of his accomplishments and he had no plans to get any more degrees, but he’d been going to school in some way, shape, or form since he was four years old, and now it was over.

Maybe it was because he was older, he thought. Maybe if he had been in his twenties when he graduated, like most of the others receiving their diplomas that afternoon, he would have felt less cynical about it. He would have had his whole life ahead of him, and a new career to navigate. But he already had his life and his career: his doctorate was only a cherry on top. It wouldn’t define him, not the way it would have if he’d gotten it earlier.

But if he’d continued school when he was younger - if he hadn’t taken Marie and Kurt back from his mother, or if they’d gone into foster care or into the hands of some distant relative - he wouldn’t have any of the best things in his life. He wouldn’t have his kids, and he was ninety-eight percent sure that he and Erik wouldn’t have ended up getting back together after they’d broken up. He also wouldn’t have fallen into the career path that he had. If he’d continued on his path from his undergraduate years, he probably would have ended up in education or research instead of business, and would not have made nearly as much money. He was aware that money didn’t buy happiness, but it certainly didn’t hurt. And believe it or not, as stressful as it was at times, he actually really enjoyed his work. Overall, he was happy with his life.

Yet somehow, at that moment, it wasn’t much consolation. He was thirty-five years old with two teenagers, two mortgages, and a decade-plus marriage, and though his work may give him an ulcer, at least he could afford to treat it. And that was his life. Dr. Charles Xavier: oldest thirty-five-year-old in the state of New York.

The lighting in the men’s room at the restaurant did nothing to hide the dark circles under his eyes. He used to think they were only from working long hours and would disappear if and when he ever got a decent night’s sleep, but he was starting to realize that they were there to stay, along with the fine lines and the general dullness that had come over his skin recently. He also thought his forehead might have been looking larger than it used to. He was probably imagining it, but Erik had been about his age when he started to go gray, so it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility. Middle age was getting nearer and nearer.

But just as he stepped out of the restroom, despairing for his lost youth and the end of his baby face, one of the waitresses winked at him. She was a petite, curvy brunette with pouty lips and big brown eyes - she reminded him a little of Gaby, his college girlfriend, and in case he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not, as she sauntered away towards the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

Maybe he hadn’t lost it just yet after all.

*

“Dr. Charles Xavier,” he said, sticking out his hand. “How do you do?”

Erik put his drink down on the bar and turned to him with an amused smirk on his face, but he played along. “Erik Lehnsherr,” he said, and shook Charles’ hand. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Glenlivet, neat.” Charles took his seat on the open bar stool next to Erik, who looked at him as though he were waiting for an explanation, but Charles offered none. He was curious to see how Erik would respond.

Apparently Erik decided to stroke his ego a bit, because after he’d given the bartender Charles’ drink order, he said, “So, ‘doctor,’ you say? That’s very impressive. What kind of doctor?”

“I’m a biologist, actually. I work in biotechnology, mainly in genetics.”

“Genetics?” asked Erik. “Like, human evolution?”

“Somewhat. My work is actually in the field of gene therapy - using DNA to treat or cure diseases. Mainly we try to take genes that cause illness or have mutated and recode them, turning them into healthy, functioning genes and hopefully provide treatment.”

Erik sipped at his martini. “So you’re hunting for mutations,” he said.

“Not necessarily. Not all mutations are bad. Overall, I’m a big fan of mutation. In fact, mutation has been the key to our evolution. Mutation is the reason humans are the dominant reproductive life form on the planet. And it’s why you have such striking blue eyes.”

Erik smiled and shook his head, but leaned in a little closer to Charles. “Oh, really?”

“Really. Blue eyes are caused by a mutation in the OCA2 gene.” He let his fingers brush against Erik’s on the bar. “It’s a very beautiful mutation.”

“Is this how you biologists flirt?” asked Erik.

Charles leaned in, his hand now covering Erik’s, gently tracing small circles with his thumb. “I don’t know - is it working?”

Apparently it was: Erik blushed.

“What about you -- Erik, right? What sort of work do you do?”

“I work for McGraw-Hill, the textbook publisher, in the PreK-12 division.”

“So you’re a writer?” Charles asked.

“Something like that. I help design textbooks and educational software - it’s more like large-scale lesson planning.”

“So you’re handsome _and_ brilliant is what you’re saying,” said Charles, which made Erik laugh out loud, then move a little bit closer so that their knees were touching.

“I’m hardly brilliant,” grinned Erik. “I’m barely even qualified for the job. I’m just a former teacher who knew somebody who knew somebody. I have him to thank for getting me in the door.”

Charles, of course, was that somebody who knew somebody, though it had been a few months before Erik could put aside his stubbornness and let Charles make the call.

“I notice you’re not arguing with me about being handsome, though.”

Erik lifted his martini glass in Charles’ direction. “I’m proud to be the second-handsomest man at this bar, thank you very much.”

They were the only men at the bar.

“And is this how textbook publishers flirt?” asked Charles.

“I suppose. But you know, I always wanted to be a politician.”

“Is that so? And how would a politician flirt?”

“A politician?” Erik asked, moving closer still, putting his hand on Charles’ knee. “If I were a politician,” he murmured, “I might ask you if you wanted to get out of here. If I could take you somewhere.” Erik’s hand moved up Charles’ thigh. “I would ask you when was the last time someone went down on you. Because that’s what I want to do. I want to taste you. I want to feel your cock at the back of my throat. I want to make you come. Do you want me to make you come?”

Charles had to remind himself to breathe. He felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck just as he felt his trousers becoming tighter. But he didn’t break eye contact. He only leaned into Erik, and whispered, “I’m going to the men’s room. In four minutes, I want you to knock five times on the door, and I will let you in. Do you understand me?”

“Four minutes. Knock five times,” Erik repeated.

“Very good.” Charles downed the rest of his whisky in one gulp and returned to the men’s room without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

Four minutes was too long. By three and a half minutes, Charles’ heart was pounding, and he was beginning to worry if Erik would turn up at all - which was absurd, of course, but he was having trouble thinking clearly. But just as he was beginning to second guess his entire plan, the five knocks came.

Erik slipped in silently when Charles let him in and backed him up against the wall. Neither of them spoke as Erik unfastened Charles’ pants and let them fall to the floor. For a moment Charles stood there, naked from the waist down and half hard, daring Erik to fulfill his promise.

Erik dropped to his knees on the dirty tile floor and sucked him off slowly, gripping at Charles’ ass, until Charles could hardly stand, until he came hot and fast against the back of Erik’s throat.

Erik struggled a bit standing up - his knees weren’t really up for that sort of activity anymore - but Charles rewarded him by returning the favor, taking Erik into his mouth and working him until he felt Erik’s fingers curl into his hair with a moan, until Erik came as well, with heavy breaths and a satisfying shudder.

When they kissed afterwards, their mouths both tasted of each other’s completion.

“So, can I have your number?” Erik asked with a smirk as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

Charles nearly laughed, but he played it straight, pulling a business card out of his wallet and a pen out of his jacket pocket. “This is my personal cell phone,” he said as he scribbled the number on the back of the card. “Call me sometime.”

Erik tucked the card into his own jacket pocket and gestured towards the door. “After you, doctor.”

*

They went to the movie as planned. It was nothing special - they both liked the actors, but agreed that they saw the ending coming from a mile away. So much for a thriller with a twist. Afterwards they went home to relieve Edie: she couldn’t drive at night anymore, so they had to be back with enough time for her to drive home to Queens before the sun went down. They each took a shower and changed out of their suits and into t-shirts and sweats. Charles noticed that Erik put the card Charles had given him on his dresser, but other than that, there was no mention of their tryst in the restaurant bar.

Until late that night, when they were going to sleep. Erik turned over in the dark and wrapped an arm around Charles’ waist to pull him closer. “That was fun this afternoon,” he murmured, letting his lips brush against Charles’ earlobe. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Which part? Pretending to be strangers or going down on each other in a public men’s room?”

“Both.”

Charles turned away from Erik.

“What?” asked Erik. “What’s the matter?”

Sighing, Charles turned back. “It’s nothing. I’ve just been thinking too much today.” He trailed his fingertip along Erik’s bare chest. “Do you ever...”

“What?” Erik asked again.

“Do you ever wish that was really how we met? As adults - strangers in a bar somewhere. A scientist and a writer.”

Even in the dark, Charles could see Erik’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed deeply. “Yes,” he said. “Sometimes. But it wouldn’t have been the same.”

“No,” said Charles. “I guess it wouldn’t.”

 


	23. loss of virginity

Erik put on his reading glasses and looked at the slip of paper in his hand for the seven thousandth time.

“139 Walnut Street,” he said again.

“Yes, I know,” Charles said. “It’s two blocks up on the right.”

“How do you know that?” Erik moved his reading glasses down to the tip of his nose and looked out the passenger side window. “Are we on Walnut Street?”

This was why Charles usually drove.

“Yes, we’ve been on Walnut Street for half a mile now. And I know because I looked at a map before we left the house. She’s three blocks from the campus health center, which we just passed.”

They’d been to visit Marie at college a hundred times by now, but she had just moved into a house off-campus for her senior year. They’d wanted to come up to help her move, but Charles couldn’t get the time off from work and Erik’s knee problems had flared up so badly that he wouldn’t have been useful for anything more than sitting in a chair and telling other people what to do. Much as Erik would have loved to do that, Marie had declined the offer.

That had been three weeks ago. Now Erik’s knee was wrapped up and feeling better and they had both taken a long weekend, so they were on their way to visit Marie and deliver some things she’d left at the house the last time she’d been home to visit. From there they were going to continue on to spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast in the mountains, enjoying the fall foliage and some time together. Unless Erik became so annoying that Charles left him behind for Marie to deal with.

“I haven’t seen any street signs,” Erik said, frowning out the window.

“That’s because you’ve been staring at that piece of paper since we got off the highway.”

Erik spared only a half a second to give Charles a sarcastic glare, then returned to peering anxiously out the window, searching for 139 Walnut Street.

Then he gasped. “Stop!”

“What?” Charles hit the brakes.

Erik pointed.

There was 139 Walnut Street, and there was Marie, standing on the front porch, making out with a boy.

“Who the hell is that?” Erik asked.

Charles was smirking. “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

He pulled the car up to the curb in front of Marie’s house, but she didn’t notice until they got out and Erik slammed the car door shut. Then she visibly startled and pushed the boy away.

“Good morning,” Erik called out.

Charles liked the boy’s confidence: though he tried to be subtle when he wiped his mouth, he stood up straight and didn’t try to hide as Charles and Erik approached.

“Hi!” said Marie. “I, uh, guess you made good time?”

Charles said, “I think this is the fastest we’ve driven here yet.” Then he turned to the boy. “Hello.”

“Hi!” he said, and stuck out his hand. “You must be Uncle Dad. I’m Bobby.”

If he felt that comfortable introducing himself, and knew who Charles and Erik were to Marie, this was no one-night-stand. Their body language confirmed it – Marie seemed nervous, but she stood at Bobby’s side like she belonged there. She wasn’t distancing herself from him, or trying to intercept Bobby from chatting with her parents; she stood by him. And that made Charles like him.

Charles shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Charles Xavier.”

“ _Doctor_ Xavier,” Erik corrected with a stern face, but Bobby was unfazed. In fact, he grinned.

“Of course! Dr. Xavier,” he said, then bowed his head. “Robert Louis Drake the Second, at your service.”

Charles laughed and noticed that Marie was blushing, but smiling happily to herself.

“And this is my husband, Erik Lehnsherr,” Charles went on. “Uncle Dad 2.”

Marie giggled, and that was enough to crack through Erik’s frown. He didn’t quite smile, but he eased up and shook Bobby’s hand.

“Well, I should be going,” said Bobby. “Nice meeting you.”

“Why don’t you stick around?” Charles asked. “We were going to take Marie out for brunch. You should come.”

Bobby nodded and smiled. “Sure! I’d love to!” Then he turned to Marie. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Marie looked to Erik, then to Charles, then back to Erik. “No, that’s fine. You should come.”

“Sweet.” Bobby waggled his eyebrows. “Waffles!”

 

**

 

“She’s going to marry that boy,” Charles said as they drove off.

“What?” Erik nearly choked on his own tongue. “No, she’s not!”

“It’s just a feeling I have.”

Erik snapped, “Are you psychic now?”

Charles shook his head. This was why he’d suggested they get away for a long weekend: they’d been bickering more and more since the kids had left for college. They’d never actually lived together without Kurt and Marie before, and though they’d been eager to have the house to themselves, they were still trying to find their footing. There were fewer things to talk about without the kids around, and the gap had quickly started filling with petty arguments. The kids would be home again – they’d be home for breaks and major holidays, and they’d both be home in a couple weeks to celebrate Charles’ 41st birthday – but for the most part, he and Erik had the entire rest of their lives ahead of them, child-free. They had to readjust.

Charles vowed that he wouldn’t fight with Erik this weekend.

“I am not psychic and maybe I’m wrong,” Charles said steadily, refusing to snap back. “But I think they’re serious about each other, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they got married in a couple years.”

“No, come on,” Erik said, his tone softened. “She’s a baby. She’s not getting married to anyone any time soon, and especially not that kid.”

“She’s almost the same age I was when Raven died.”

Erik turned in surprise. “You were that age when I married you?”

“Almost. I was a little bit older, but not much.” Charles patted Erik on the knee. “Come on, Uncle Dad, don’t you want to be an Uncle Grandpa?”

“We are at least ten years away from becoming Uncle Grandpas,” Erik chuckled.

“Well, you never know.”

That caught Erik’s attention. “Why do you say that?” he asked. “Do you think she’s having sex with that kid?”

“Of course they’re having sex!”

“You don’t know that!”

Charles rolled his eyes. “We just caught her giving him a goodbye kiss as he left her house at 11:00 in the morning. What do you think he was over there for? A game of Scrabble?”

“It’s college. Maybe he was dropping off a book or something.”

Charles gave him a flat look, but said nothing.

“Just because you were having sex before you learned how to drive doesn’t mean all kids are like that,” Erik went on. “Marie’s a good girl.”

“Good girls have sex, too,” said Charles, carefully trying to keep his tone light. “And don’t act like you’re so innocent, either. Who do you think took my virginity?”

“You already told me – your neighbor’s cousin, Jenny.”

Charles pointed at Erik.

“No, I didn’t!” Erik said, scandalized. “You’d had sex way before you met me!”

“Yeah, but I’d only ever been with girls. You were the first person that ever penetrated me.”

Erik gaped at him. “You never told me that.”

“Well, I thought you’d have figured that out, at least.” Charles smirked. “Or did you think Amy Voght was into pegging?”

Now Erik winced. “Oh, Jesus, Charles! You slept with Amy Voght?”

“Yeah, so what? So did half the football team.”

“I don’t want to know that! She was in my class! I liked her!”

“I liked her, too!” Charles laughed. But Erik was still pouting, so Charles changed the subject. “I’m just saying that maybe we should expect one more person at Thanksgiving, that’s all.”

Erik didn’t respond. After a couple of minutes, Charles turned on the radio.

It was too early in the season to expect much in the way of fall foliage. The view from the highway was still lush and green, with only a few scattered hints of orange to mark the changing seasons. In some ways, Charles preferred the vibrant green of the summer; the crunch of fall to him was only a reminder that winter was coming.

“When was it?” Erik asked a few miles later.

“What was what?”

“When we had sex that first time.”

Charles was surprised. “You don’t remember? It was the weekend after I graduated from high school. The first time you came over to my house.”

Charles’ mother and her boyfriend at the time had gone to Hawaii for a week, and Charles had invited Erik to come over for dinner and a movie. Erik had acted a bit weird and unsure about it at first, but the awkwardness quickly faded into two days in bed, interrupted only by food and supplies-runs. Charles would never forget that weekend, but at that moment, Erik looked as though he wished he could.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Erik.

Charles shrugged. “I don’t know. I was always worried about making sure you saw me as an adult. And it didn’t matter much to me at the time, but I thought it might matter to you.”

“It does matter to me,” Erik grumbled.

He really shouldn’t have brought this up, Charles thought to himself. Erik never liked to be reminded of how they met, and never stopped feeling guilty about their relationship during Charles’ time as his student. If they were going to have an argument-free weekend, accusing Erik of taking his virginity three days after graduation was not the way to go about it.

Charles took Erik’s hand. “Darling, there is no one else in the world I would have rather been with. And I know it’s hard to believe, but that was more than 20 years ago. I think it’s time you stop beating yourself up about this.”

When Erik didn’t respond, Charles kissed his knuckles and let go of his hand.

A couple of minutes later, Erik turned off the radio and said, “You know, as I remember it, you looked me in the eyes and asked me to fuck you.”

Charles grinned. “Oh, I definitely did.”

“Then you grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me off the couch and dragged me to your bed. You told me you had homework for me.” Erik was smirking.

“No, we were already on my bed.”

“No, we were on the couch, and then you dragged me to bed.”

Charles shook his head and laughed. “You’re wrong. I don’t want to fight with you this weekend, but you’re wrong.”

“Well, maybe when we get to the hotel we can reenact it. Then you’ll see I’m right.”

Charles looked over and saw that Erik was smiling. Erik never used to smile when they talked about high school, and seeing Erik joking about it now, finally, made Charles happier than he ever thought it would.

“Oh, you’re on,” he told Erik, and hit the gas.

 


	24. mistletoe kiss

When Charles left the house that morning, everything was decorated for Hanukkah. They’d never done much decorating for Hanukkah before, but that year Erik had gone all out: he’d put the menorah in the window and candles in living room, blue and silver silk draperies on every surface, and little bowls of dreidels and chocolate gelt were distributed throughout the house. Erik even wore a yarmulke for the first time since his mother died, and taped one onto Charles’ bald head. Not once during those eight days did Charles step out the door without his clothes smelling vaguely of fried potatoes. It was nice that Erik was feeling festive that year, Charles thought, though he could do without all the fire hazards.

Now Charles pulled into the driveway at the end of the day to find that Hanukkah was over. It was now Christmas, and the exterior of the house was expertly draped in twinkling lights, from the shrubs all the way up to the roof (and Charles was going to have to have a talk with Erik about climbing on the roof). When he pushed open the front door, which held a beautiful and expensive-looking wreath, everything was red, green, and gold. The scent of latkes had been replaced by the scent of cookies. Erik had even put up the tree, complete with a star on top and wrapped presents below.

This could only mean one thing: Erik was bored.

This was the fifth month of Erik’s retirement, though it only took about three weeks for him to start getting antsy. Retired life just did not suit him: he needed something to keep him busy and out of trouble and, as Charles was now discovering, off the roof. Charles had tried to talk him into volunteering with the Westchester Democrats, but Erik refused – their old neighbor, Max, was the chairman, and Erik told Charles in no uncertain terms that he’d rather have another heart attack than ever volunteer at an organization run by that maniac. Charles also suggested he do some writing, but Erik wasn’t interested in that, either. Erik had said no to every idea Charles threw at him.

What Erik wanted was for Charles to retire alongside him, so they could travel or move to Florida or do whatever it is retired couples do, but Charles wasn’t anywhere near retirement. Erik had retired fairly early due to the heart attack, which meant that Charles was still about ten years away from even a “fairly early” retirement. He was at the peak of his career; there was no way Charles was going to retire just to keep Erik company, no matter how much he pouted about it.

Charles found Erik in the kitchen, frowning into a cookbook. He watched from the doorway for a minute as Erik flipped through the pages, scratching at his chin and scribbling in the margins. Finally Erik noticed him there, took off his reading glasses, stood from the kitchen table, and kissed him full on the mouth, Erik’s hand on the small of Charles’ back, pulling him closer, his lips warm and sweet and tasting of cookie batter.

“What was that for?” Charles asked, the surprise of the kiss leaving him happy and somewhat breathless.

Erik just smirked a little and nodded towards the ceiling. “Mistletoe,” he said, and went back to the cookbook.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Oh, something boring and heart-healthy,” Erik sighed, then went to rummage in the refrigerator.

“And who’s going to eat all these cookies?” Charles asked.

Erik looked at the mounds of cookies as though he wasn’t sure how they got there. “The kids will eat them.”

“You know Bobby and Marie won’t have time to bring them over here until Christmas, and that’s still more than two weeks away – the cookies will be stale by then.”

Surely Erik knew that Marie was too busy to bring the kids over in the next couple of weeks – since he retired, the frequency of Erik’s calls to Marie went from “often” to “constant.” Marie had even called Charles a couple of times to complain about it.

“He calls me just to say hello, which is fine,” she’d said, “but then he calls me again an hour later, then again, and again, asking me what’s new, and I’m like, _‘Nothing has changed in the last forty-five minutes!’_ ”

Charles had known that Erik was calling her ten times a day, but he’d allowed it, because it meant that he didn’t have to call Erik ten times a day. It kept Charles up at night sometimes, thinking that Erik could have another heart attack and no one would be there to help him. As long as Erik was busy annoying Marie, Charles knew that he was all right.

Again Erik stared at the cookies, sizing them up, then shrugged. “I’m sure someone will eat them. You can bring them to work.”

Charles took a seat at the kitchen table and watched for a couple of minutes while Erik started on dinner. He wanted to tell Erik to go back to work. He wanted to tell him to take up golf. He wanted to tell him to get out of the house, for both their sakes, because Erik could not spend the rest of his life like this. But that never went over well, so Charles brought up his next idea.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”

Charles braced himself for Erik’s reaction, but all he did was make a surprised face and ask lightly, “Why on earth would you want a dog?”

Charles had been afraid that Erik would become crankier and grumpier as time went on, turning him into the kind of curmudgeonly old man that would make Charles’ golden years hell on earth. Instead, to Charles’ great surprise, Erik had mellowed. It was almost a relief, except that Charles was never sure if Erik wasn’t just subdued from boredom and loneliness, or simply exhausted from recovering from the heart attack (and climbing on the roof).

“I don’t know,” Charles said. “I think it would be fun. I was even going to get you a puppy for Christmas, but I thought we should discuss it first.”

Erik looked at Charles like he’d completely lost his mind. “Honestly, Charles. A puppy? You have to train them, and walk them, and feed them. Everything would revolve around the dog’s schedule. They require constant attention. It’s like having a three-year-old that never grows up.”

Charles thought that was rather the point, but he knew better than to say so. “I emailed you a link to the local shelter,” he said instead. “I also sent you a list of breeds to consider, and some cute puppy pictures just to tempt you a little bit.”

Erik eyed him. “And I suppose you assume that I would take care of the dog?”

“Well, I would have wanted to get a dog years ago, but neither of us was home enough.”

That wasn’t true: Charles was never much of a dog person. He liked them well enough, but never had any desire to actually own one. But he thought it would make Erik happy. Kurt’s girlfriend had a little white fluffy dog named Daisy that Erik absolutely doted on every time they visited, not that he would ever admit it once they left.

(“Well, _she_ doesn’t know she’s a little white fluffy dog!” Erik would say in defense. “She wants to hunt!”

Charles would just roll his eyes and say, “Yes, Daisy’s obviously a killer.”)

Erik turned back to the chicken he’d been slicing. “I’ll think about it.”

As far as Charles could tell, that would be a yes within a week. “Good,” he said. “And by the way, I would appreciate it if you stayed off the roof.”

Again Erik paused. “What makes you think I went on the roof?”

“The Christmas lights.”

“And how do you know I didn’t get the kid next door to climb up there for me?”

Charles wasn’t even going to dignify that with a response – of course Erik had gone up there himself. There wasn’t a doubt in Charles’ mind. “Well, when it’s time for them to come down I hope you will get someone else to go up there. I spend enough time worrying about you without having to add ‘falling from the roof’ to my list of concerns.”

“Well, stop worrying about me,” Erik said sternly. “The doctor says I’m fully recovered. I’m perfectly healthy. And I’m not going to fall off the roof.”

“Fine,” Charles sighed. “I’m sorry I said anything. But I still don’t want you going up there, especially not when I’m not home.” He stood from the table. “I’m going to go change out of my suit,” he said, and left the kitchen, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his collar.

But Charles stopped at the foot of the stairs, listening to Erik, alone in the kitchen once again. And instead of going up to their bedroom to change his clothes, he returned to the kitchen doorway and lingered there under the mistletoe, waiting for Erik to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a short coda to this chapter posted on Tumblr, [here.](http://listerinezero.tumblr.com/post/63330416662/after-school-special-chapter-24-1-2-the-dogs)


	25. mistaken unrequited love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say a big thank you to everyone who's read this fic all the way to the end, and especially to Unforgotten, without whom I never would have made it to the end (or started this in the first place)! Thank you for all of your help and support.
> 
> Thank you!

“Oh my God.” Charles rolled his eyes. “You probably think there are alligators in the sewers, too.”

“There are alligators in the sewers!” Raven insisted. “It was in the newspaper!”

“It was in the newspaper in 1935! That was one time! And it was sixty-five years ago!”

They were beginning to attract attention, following a toddler down Charles’ street and screaming at each other about alligators, but neither he nor Raven much cared what the rest of the neighborhood thought. They’d always argued, from the time Charles was old enough to tell her “No,” and they weren’t going to stop now.

“Okay, so that was sixty-five years ago,” Raven continued. “Meanwhile, alligators have been around since dinosaur times. Sixty-five years is nothing to an alligator. That alligator’s brother is probably still down there having baby alligators and eating rats! You don’t know!”

“Alligators don’t eat rats!”

“Then what good are they?” Raven shouted, laughing now. “If they’re going to be hanging around in the sewers they may as well eat some rats while they’re down there!”

Raven had expressed concern about letting Marie out on the street, considering the story about lethal pennies falling from the Empire State Building. Even though that story about the penny was complete bullshit. And even if it weren’t bullshit, there weren’t any buildings nearly as tall as the Empire State Building in Charles’ Upper West Side neighborhood. And even if there were, no one was standing on a roof throwing pennies trying to kill babies. No one was throwing anything off any roof. And Charles was never going to stop making fun of her.

“I really don’t think paranoia is a trait you want to pass on to your daughter,” said Charles.

“I’m not paranoid! I just don’t want her getting killed by--”

“Pocket change?” he ventured.

They crossed at Central Park West to walk north along the park, and as soon as they were shaded by trees instead of buildings, Raven relaxed and sat down on a bench to watch Marie chase the pigeons.

“So how’s it going? Living in mom’s building?” Raven asked.

A few months earlier, Charles had left Columbia student housing and moved into one of their mother’s apartment buildings. He probably would have left the dorms and gotten his own place after his freshman year if it weren’t for Gaby. Officially, he and his roommate lived a floor below her and her roommate. Unofficially, he and Gaby had been living together - they’d chosen roommates who were also a couple and exchanged keys. What had been a brilliant idea at the beginning of the school year had turned into a disaster seven months later when their relationship soured. So much of a disaster that Charles was even willing to work for his mother and live under her thumb if it meant a clean breakup with Gaby.

“It’s going okay,” said Charles. “I actually don’t mind the building management stuff, and I like the neighborhood. I wish I was a little closer to campus, though. I feel like I miss out on stuff, and I don’t see my friends as much. I don’t feel like I’m in college anymore; I feel like I’m just anybody else, working and going to school and commuting and stuff.”

“Welcome to the real world.”

Charles scoffed, but before he could reply, Raven shouted, “MARIE, GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!” and jumped up to scoop her up and carry her back to the bench. “What is that, a leaf? Are you eating a leaf?”

Marie babbled something that almost sounded like words, which Raven seemed to understand.

“Okay, I have some grapes here. Do you want some grapes, baby?” Raven asked, and again Marie babbled and giggled and accepted the baggie of grapes as an alternative to the leaf. “Say thank you.”

Then she looked up at Raven and said the only words Charles could actually understand: “Thank you, Mama.”

Already they looked alike: when Raven’s eyes locked with Marie’s it was like a mirror, their eyes identical in color, almost matching in shape. At the hospital when she was born, a nurse had told Hank that the baby looked just like him, but she was wrong. Marie looked like Raven. And maybe someday she might look a bit like Charles.

After a few minutes Marie lost interest in the grapes and went to chase the birds again, while Charles and Marie sat on the bench for a little while, just people-watching and enjoying the afternoon. It was unseasonably warm for this late in the fall, and the sunlight made the autumn colors seem that much more vibrant. Unfortunately that particular bench turned out to not be such a great spot for people-watching: most of the people walking along the street were either joggers or little old white ladies walking their little white dogs.

Until Charles spotted Mr. Lehnsherr.

Mr. Lehnsherr was walking along the opposite side of the street, carrying a package. At least, Charles thought it was him. Was it him?

“I’ll be right back,” he told Raven, and hurried over to the crosswalk. If the light changed in time, he’d just be able to catch him.

“Where are you going?” Raven called after him as he dashed across the street.

But Mr. Lehnsherr turned the corner just as Charles had crossed, and Charles had to pick up his pace, weaving around the old ladies and nearly tripping over their dogs. He expected Mr. Lehnsherr to be halfway up the block by the time he got to the corner, but when Charles turned, there he was, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a piece of paper in his hand.

“Mr. Lehnsherr?”

“Charles?” Mr. Lehnsherr did a double take. “Charles! Uh, hi! What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I live here. Well, I mean, I live a few blocks from here. I saw you from across the street.”

It was much better seeing him up close, though. In the years since they’d gone their separate ways, Charles always remembered Mr. Lehnsherr in his school clothes, but now he was casual in a soft-looking hoodie and a worn pair of sneakers. Even his hair looked comfortable: all soft curls now, instead of cut into place the way it had been before. And he looked younger than Charles remembered. Charles always just thought of him as older - but now he looked like someone he might run into on campus. He looked like a peer.

“What are you doing here?” Charles asked.

“I was just meeting a friend,” he said.

A friend. A boyfriend, probably, Charles thought, and to his own surprise, he felt his heart sink.

“Oh.” Charles tried not to let his smile waver.

“It’s a friend from college,” Mr. Lehnsherr went on. “She just moved back to New York and she’s having an apartment-warming party.”

She, Charles noted with relief. Unlike him, Mr. Lehnsherr was 100% gay. So not a date after all.

“Ah,” said Charles. “That explains the package.”

Mr. Lehnsherr frowned at the gift. “It’s some fancy coffee. I didn’t know what to get, but I felt like I had to bring something. Everybody likes coffee, right?”

“Sure,” Charles said. “And if she doesn’t like it, I’ll drink it. Bring it over to my place afterwards.”

It wasn’t until the words had already left his mouth that Charles realize he’d invited Mr. Lehnsherr over to his apartment.

“I’m kidding,” he said quickly. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

Mr. Lehnsherr blushed. “So you live near here? Are you still in school?”

“Yeah, still at Columbia. I’m also working full time, so I’m pretty busy. What about you? Are you still teaching?”

“Yup. Still at the high school. Same classroom, even.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I thought you were going to move to Washington and become a big-time journalist.”

Mr. Lehnsherr shrugged, a bashful smile brightening his face. “Turns out I like teaching.”

Charles smiled, too. “I’m glad. That’s really great. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

The pause in their conversation lingered long enough to become uncomfortable, and Charles realized that Mr. Lehnsherr probably wasn’t thrilled to be running into him. Nothing like a reminder of his biggest career mistake to put a person in a party mood.

“Well, I’d better get going,” Charles said. “Raven is waiting for me.” He turned and gestured across to the park, where Raven and Marie were.

“Oh,” he said with surprise when he saw them. “Is that her kid?”

“Yeah, that’s Marie.”

Just as he said that, Marie squealed and toddled off towards a squirrel.

“She’s cute,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. “So you’re an uncle.”

Charles smiled. “Yep, that’s me: Uncle Charley. Already a bad influence.”

He chuckled. “Well, it was nice seeing you.”

Charles’ heart pounded. No “see you soon,” no “let’s get together,” no nothing. Charles didn’t know what he was expecting, but he ached to think that this was it.

But he didn’t want to be some desperate kid chasing his old teacher, so he replied, “You, too. Enjoy the party.”

“Thanks.”

For a few seconds, Charles stood there, wondering if he should hug him, or shake his hand, or something, anything. But Mr. Lehnsherr just nodded, said goodbye, and continued up the street, package in hand. And that was it. Charles would probably never see him again.

“Who was that?” Raven asked when Charles returned.

“No one.”

“You don’t go running up the street after no one.”

“Well, I guess I do,” Charles sighed. “Do you still want to take her to FAO Schwarz?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Raven called to Marie, “Come on, ducky, let’s go ride on the subway!” She scooped up Marie and together they headed over to the subway station.

It was a short ride down to 59th Street, but it was long enough for Raven to notice that Charles was pouting. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about ‘no one’?”

“No.”

They passed another stop, and Marie was fascinated watching the people getting on and off, pointing and babbling to Mama, but Mama was focused on Charles.

“Was that the friend you snuck into the wedding?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Charles admitted. “But I haven’t seen him in a couple of years, and I probably won’t see him again.” Before Raven could say anything more, Charles told her, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Charles had never told her about Mr. Lehnsherr. Maybe he would someday, but not today, after he’d gone from not thinking about him to being heartbroken over him in fifteen minutes flat.

“Okay,” she said.

They got off the train and emerged onto Columbus Circle, at the southwest corner of Central Park. FAO Schwarz was all the way on Fifth. Charles was just asking Raven if Marie could handle the walk when his cell phone made a noise.

He’d gotten a voicemail while they were in the subway.

_“Hey, Charles. It’s Erik. Mr. Lehnsherr. I hope this is still your phone number. I just saw you a few minutes ago and I know you’re busy with your sister today but I was wondering if you wanted to get together sometime. Maybe we could have dinner or something. If you want. Anyway, give me a call. Bye.”_

Charles smiled.

“Everything okay?” Raven asked, lifting baby Marie into her arms.

“Yeah,” said Charles. “Everything’s great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious, the chronological order is listed [here.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/b890da51f2321fccb016e092a9d7e1c1/tumblr_mubnxhcdvY1s3w3q6o1_500.jpg)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to unforgotten, ikeracity, firstlightofeos, turtletotem, and jabletown for all your help!


End file.
